Depression Monkey
by Kerschi-Puky
Summary: The sequel to 'My Iraq' if you didn't read it: read basic info in 1st chapter . A lot of fluff. Dedicated to all who know how difficult it sometimes can be, if you live in a family with more than one child ;
1. Chapter 1

**A/N.: **So this is the Sequel to 'my iraq'. I'm not sure about this story - whether actually posting it at all - , so please tell me what you think about it. I'm not sure whether you should read it before this one. Maybse some basic info might be enough:

Ryan has had a hard time becoming a part of the Cohen-family espcially after his father - to whom he had started to build up a relationship after he got released from prison - dies in the Iraq-war (mom's already dead and he watched his brother die). The tension - espcially between Ryan and Sandy - makes Ryan run away and Sandy follows him and catches him. He wants to drive him home, but they both get involved in a bad accident, and Sandy is faced with watching how he loses Ryan. Ryan makes it, baldy injured. The Cohen's way to deal with his treatment - adopting him, and then being able to make the actual decision - isn't really what Ryan wants. At the end some of the tension gets resolved through Ryan's insight that he actually has a problem to adopt to his new life.

The story now amounts in him becmoing more and more part if the family.

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**1.**

We all sit together in the living room watching TV - like every evening. Well, what does 'sit' mean? My eldest son is sitting at the kitchen table drawing his own comic. I've seen his drawings and I'm sure now that forcing him into an academic career would only mean wasting an extraordinary talent. He's really good and his idea of making a comic about his life in Newport is amazing. He's really very creative. He must have this from his Mom - my wife. I still have the feeling that something is bothering him, but he hadn't told me yet. Maybe he'll tell my one day. I have to start pushing him a little. It's not normal that he doesn't talk about what's bothering him. Since…since the accident he's strange in somehow; but I have no idea why. He doesn't talk to me how he used to. He's changed that's for sure; but why and how? I can't find any reasonable explanation. I'll have to start to find out. That's my duty as father, but at the moment there are so many other father duties. I sometimes have the feeling as if I'm overwhelmed with my father role. I feel as if things are starting to slip out of my hands. I have to start to get the control back. It's easier said than done. I'm a father of three children, all with different needs. How am I supposed to handle that? I have to take deep breaths and just don't think about that. I don't want my family to notice that I have the feeling of being overtaxed from time to time.

I have to distract myself from this thought and feeling; and therefore I let my glance wander over to my other family members. Watching them always has a calm effect on me. The feeling of satisfaction spreads through my body, because I see that I have what I wanted: a happy and huge family. My wife is sitting in an arm chair rocking our youngest family member to sleep. Sophie Rose. I still can't imagine how my wife didn't notice that she had been pregnant until the middle of the fourth month, or so. She'd thought it was the stress or the menopause. Her Mom had gotten it very early too. Well, it hadn't been the whirlpool-incident. Sophie Rose wouldn't have been born yet; but I still remember when she'd been pregnant with Seth. We hadn't noticed it either. My wife hadn't been any swollen when we found out; but in the last three months it had seemed as if she was going to explode. I'd better not tell her this. I don't want to add an angry wife to my list of problems to be solved.

And my youngest son? He's sleeping on the couch - cuddled into a blanket. He's often very tired lately and I start to worry. After the whole trouble we had gone through the last months we'd managed to make him agree seeing a therapist. Unfortunately my son had undergone several tests that had proven again the necessity of antidepressant. He hadn't been happy about that, but he had given it a try. I'm not sure whether the medication is to blame for his exhaustion, or the fact that he still has to go to physical therapy three times a week, or whether it is his stuffed schedule. Yes, he still worries me a lot. He still hasn't recovered fully from the accident. I know that his leg will never recover one hundred per cent, but it's his whole physically appearance that gives evidence to worry. His lack of energy lately is alerting.

I watch my wife taking our daughter to bed. My son has started to talk to someone on his cell phone. I'm pretty much sure it's Summer. They're a very beautiful couple and they seem to be really happy together. Ryan hasn't had that much luck. Jimmy and Julie got divorced and Marissa had decided to leave with her father to Europe. It had been obvious that Ryan had been more than depressed about it, but he hadn't hid it. He hadn't even tried to bottle it up, and I think he's now more or less over it. At least I hope so. He's still not much of a talker, although he doesn't try to hide that many things from us. Nevertheless he's still a very private person.

"Dad, can I go over to Summer's?" My son asks.

"Sure. But don't be too late." I answer.

"Dad, it's a Friday night and it's only one week away from summer vacation." Seth answers - my info to know that he might not come home tonight. I don't bother. I know that I can trust my son – both my sons.

"Okay, then see you later, or tomorrow." I say and then he runs upstairs, probably saying good night to his sister and goodbye to his Mom. I only hear the front door shut. Not even this woke my other son. I guess it's better to wake him up before he sinks any deeper into slumber. It's impossible to wake him up then. Yes, I should rethink these antidepressants. Their effect is bigger than I'd thought.

"Hey kid." I say, gently shaking him.

"mmm." I only get as answer.

"You should go to bed. It's more comfortable there." I tell him. He slowly opens his eyes. They're still blue, but they are dazed. They've lost their bright expression.

"Yeah, sure." He says and sits up. "Sandy," I hear him say. It nearly sounds slurred. I sit down on the couch next to him. I see how he struggles to emerge from the trance he had been in. No, he doesn't look as if he's awake.

"What bothers you?" I can smell it miles against the wind when something is bothering him.

"I…see…I know that you want to help me and that you think all these sessions and so on are supposed to make me feel better…" He hesitates. I feel his uneasiness.

"But?" I try to help him. He often needs our help when he tries to express something – especially if it's some kind of complaint.

"I…I'm tired. I mean I have three physical therapy sessions a week and I'm sure it'll pay back one day, but I mean this therapist…can't we just cut it from two times to once a week?" He asks. I can hear in his voice that this isn't the whole truth. I also hear that he's too … afraid to tell me the whole one. Again I need to help him. This way I can ensure him that I understand him, and that I'm not angry about anything.

"You want to stop these pills, don't you?" I ask him. He blushes and I see that I hit the right nerve.

"They…I don't know…I mean I can sleep and stuff…but I'm always tired. I could sleep twenty four seven and… I always feel sick on my stomach…I just doubt that this had been a good idea." He says – no, whispers.

"And why didn't you tell me earlier that you don't feel comfortable with them?" I ask. I'm still disappointed when he comes this late to us when he has a problem. On other hand he comes to us. I should be glad about this approach.

"I thought…you…I mean…just…I dunno. I mean I still remember the last time we discussed this topic." He admits shyly. My heart breaks. He still feels guilty for the whole time. How to explain a teenager that it wasn't his fault that the last few months had been one entire battle, although it had been his behaviour causing it? Anyway, he always feels guilty; and now when Sophie is there, I and my wife fear he might retreat again. We are too afraid he might draw back into his shell. He's all brother for Sophie. He really cares without arguing. We never have to worry when we go out at night and Ryan's there. Okay, I have a little bad conscience. His leg is still bothering him badly and he's forced to stay home a lot. I feel like exploiting him and his situation, but he never complains about it. He never would complain about anything. Since Sophie is there he's afraid we might lose an interest in him, start ignoring him or even kick him out. No, he didn't tell us that. We had talked to his therapist who had confirmed that this is a common problem for kids in Ryan's situation. Ryan never would tell us something like that. He isn't ready for something like that yet.

"Ryan, you need to start telling us when something's bothering you, especially when's something serious like that." I tell him. He nods. He focuses the carpet. I see there's more on his mind. I see that he feels bad, because I start to care again. I don't know why, but lately he seems to feel more uncomfortable when we care than usually. I sometimes fear he might feel that there is some kind of strained atmosphere. What does fear mean? Ryan's very sensitive in sensing such things. He used to realise other people's problems before they even occur. His past had shaped him with a lot of experiences. He knows how to read people and situations. He has a feeling for that. Nobody can hide anything from him. Unfortunately he doesn't share his impressions with us. It could be of some advantage. On the other hand, maybe he isn't aware about his ability. Who knows?

"Okay, I think it's time again for some kind of conversation." I warn him. He sighs. His appearance breaks my heart and worse of all: I'm the one to be blamed for the remains of the accident. Although I try to tell myself it had been an accident – everyday – I can't get rid of the guilt when I see how tired he is, or how he struggles to come to terms with his injuries – mainly his leg.

"I know and can understand that you feel a little…uncomfortable now with Sophie around, but you don't have to. You're still our son and we always have time to listen and help you." I tell him. I have the feeling as if I have to tell him this every single day, every hour and he still wouldn't understand it; but I want him to understand this. I don't know. Maybe this therapist isn't as good as his reputation, or Ryan is just a very tough nut to crack. I don't doubt the therapist's skills. I just don't understand why nobody can help him to become more comfortable around us. Why isn't there anyone making him accept his place in our family or at least making him realizing it.

"But you don't have to…"

"Ryan, stop it. There is no way that this is starting from new. You are our son as Seth is, and thus we care about and for you. We now only need to stick a little closer together, until Sophie is a little older and less helpless." I say to him and I earn a lopsided smile. Oh yeah, he would do everything for Sophie. I already know where all this will lead to. Seth will teach her how to drive the parents crazy and Ryan will take care of her boyfriends. I have to laugh inwardly at this thought.

"So…when you're not too occupied with anything else…could you…" I already know what he wants. He still has major difficulties to walk with his leg after physical therapy. His leg uses to be awfully tired then. A wave of guilt hits me again. He's even seventeen and already needs to be supported while walking. The alternative solution would have been: losing the boy and if not through the accident, then through his fears. I shouldn't complain that much; but I only had wanted to bring him home and instead I converted him into a cripple.

"Sorry, but it feels like jelly." He apologizes. I see how he tries to put as less weight on his injured leg as possible. At the beginning he has had trouble keeping his balance, but now it's some kind of routine.

"No, it's okay. When it makes you feel safer." I only answer and put an arm around his waist. He doesn't always need to be supported, but the physical therapy gets tougher and tougher from session to session and the effect is obvious. On the other hand he can use his leg again, without crutches, but most of the time he still depends on the knee brace. His knee doesn't have enough stability. Ryan has to learn; or has learned that he has to listen to his body very carefully. It had been hard at the beginning. He isn't used that his body not working as he wants it to. There had been some grumpy days and our patience had been extended to its maximum; but we managed even this phase and now things start to calm down again. We slowly make our way to the pool house. We had wanted to settle him into the main house, but he's still afraid of stairs. His knee isn't stable enough yet. If it ever will be is questionable. The whole recovery takes longer than assumed. There had been too many not foreseen complications, but he's brave and he's working very hard. I watch I'm carefully. He's limping awfully again. I have to guide him to the bathroom.

"Okay do you think you can make it from here?" I ask. He only nods. I disappear in the main house again and fetch some ice for his knee. It's the usual procedure. After his therapy his knee uses to be incredibly swollen and I start to doubt his leg will ever recover. When I come back he's already sat on the bed. I can see all the scars the surgery has left, and the thought of having all the metal removed again within a surgery hangs above our heads like a Damocles sword.

"Here." I hand him the ice and he carefully covers his knee with it. He lies down and I tuck him in, only leaving his right leg out. I'll pick the ice pack up later and tuck him in properly, but he won't notice it, because he's too deep asleep, and if he'd notice he'd probably die from embarrassment. He still isn't used to be mothered and fathered. He still feels uncomfortable when we try to treat him like our son.

"Alright, sleep well." I say and leave him. When I come in, my wife is in the kitchen – a mug of tea in her hand.

"Seth is at Summer's." She says and I only nod.

"And Ryan's asleep."

"He's very tired." My wife answers and I'm aware of the concern that floats with this sentence. She worries a lot about Ryan. We both do. We can't read him. We can only assume how he feels about Sophie, and how he copes with his leg.

"He's tired a lot lately." I answer, making her aware of my concerns, hoping she'll understand the hint.

"He had physical therapy today." She answers. No she hasn't. Of course I know that this might be one factor making him tired too, but there's more.

"Kirsten, he told me the antidepressants are making him tired and sick on his stomach." I answer her. She nods.

"I know. I'll talk to Dr. Harrison on Tuesday." She answers and I'm surprised. How had she noticed? Why hadn't she already intervened? Why hadn't she told me? She usually tells me to talk to him when she notices that something is bothering him.

"How do you know?" I ask her. I doubt he had talked to her about this, because then I would already know.

"A mother notices things like that. Besides he throws up a lot lately." She answers. I hadn't noticed that. But why the heck did she let it happen? This was more than a small sign that something was wrong. This was a huge hint, a sign post saying: wrong.

"And you didn't talk to him or step in?" I ask. I'm a little astonished.

"I had wanted to wait and see whether he would have come to one of us and he eventually did. Sandy, we can't always push things. He has to come to us on his own. I think we had pushed him too hard the last time. For him it's very important to be ready and prepared before he comes to us." She explains me. She's right. We had pushed him too hard the last time. She leaves for the pool house. She always has to check on him. There's always the same question: when is finally an end in sight. My wife comes back and carries concern on her face.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I think he's getting sick again. I only hope it remains with a cold this time." Of the few months he's home from hospital he has been very sick three times.

"Will he ever recover?" I ask her. I need to ask this. I have the feeling as if the doctors are only fooling us. I have the feeling as if those people have no idea what they're talking about.

"Sandy, this accident…it had a major effect on his immune system. Ryan had lost his spleen and one of his kidneys - two very important organs. Think about all the surgeries and foreign objects in his body. I'm sure by the time he'll get better." She tries to sooth me. Her voice sounds tired. She knows that I still feel guilty.

"And what about his leg?" I ask her.

"Sandy, stop it. Please. You're right his leg takes longer to heal as the doctors have assumed; and yes, I know that you're frustrated that they hadn't foreseen the complication with his hip. I'm frustrated as well. I know that seeing how slowly it all goes; that he still needs the knee brace; that he still can't move his leg fully; and that he still has trouble with walking at the end of the day – it hurts watching all this, but we have to stop this here. I don't want Ryan feeling guilty because of anything and I don't want him to hide his physical problems." She's right. If Ryan starts realising how worried we are, he would start to pretend being the tough strong guy again.

"You're right. I only …I dunno. It takes too long. Ryan's supposed to recover from his former life and not…from some injury." I answer. My wife put her arms around me and kisses me. I love it when she's doing this. It gives me the feeling that we can fix everything and everyone.

"I go to bed now. Don't forget the ice pack, but don't take too long. I'm waiting for you." She says, kisses me once more and then leaves. I have a quick look through a new Lawyer magazine and then go to the pool house. Ryan's already deep asleep. I take the ice pack from his knee and tuck him in properly. I feel his forehead. Definitely: he is coming down with something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Desclaimer:** Sorry, I forgot about that. But is this still a copyright infringement? I mean, different background, different character. So, basically I'm not using the originally created ones and it's not my fault that people associate my characters with thos of the series or? But to sooth those who think this still amount into an infringement: I'm not exploiting the fruits of other people's mind. I'm just toying around with them.

**A/N.: And I have to say: I have the best Beta ever!** And please don't be mad, if I'm not going to be able to update that frequently. I'll do my best to not let you wait for too long for my updates. Now enjoy

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**2.**

Ryan shuffles into the kitchen the next morning. It is nearly eleven. He has been sleeping for over twelve hours, but still doesn't seem to be really awake. My husband is right, we need to do something about this, and now Ryan had admitted that he doesn't feel too well with these pills. No, this is no state anymore. I'll have to talk to his therapist. I watch him walking to one of the cupboards taking a mug out of it. When his leg has had a good night rest, you won't notice that he's still limping, if you didn't know about his injury. Oh my God, I'm so tired of all off this. I just want my calm family life back. I can't even remember how it is to be a family without problems or conflict to be solved for one day. I have no idea how long I can do any of this, but I feel it's not for too long. Stop. I need to brace myself. The kids had been my decision and now I have to live with it. That's easy and I have to stick to it.

"Hey honey, how are you?" I ask him, trying to hide my exhaustion and concerns. On the other hand, trying to hide something like that from Ryan is like trying to hide an elephant in the garage. He only shrugs his shoulders. It's a Saturday morning. His brother is out with his girlfriend and his own – former girlfriend – is gone. I still can't believe that she hadn't hesitated for one second. I doubt she had wasted one thought for Ryan, and what it meant for him. She had been for so long the only person he had confided in. She had been his support for so long. They…had been physical and she just was able to leave all this behind. I know that it's hard for Ryan to handle – especially the fact that he had gone all the way with her – as he uses to describe it. Well he's pretty much alone now and I'm sure this won't change. Now with Marissa gone he's always the fifth wheel.

"You look a little groggy." I say and rub his back, before feeling his forehead again. He turns his head away. He's upset. He can't handle being sick and not a hundred percent. He used to be strong and tough, but now he's hurt and vulnerable.

"I think you're coming down with something again." I say.

"I only took a hot shower." He grumbles. Oh yeah, he hates all the mothering and fathering stuff. If he could, he would hide from us in the pool house.

"Uh, yes." I only say. I'm not sure whether this is really only the effect of a hot shower. He's sick a lot lately. In the last five months he suffered from pneumonia, a stomach flu which again turned into pneumonia. I still don't understand how stomach flu can develop to pneumonia. But more important is, how to keep Ryan healthy.

"You should eat something." I say.

"Not hungry." He answers. I sigh. No, this is not good. He was supposed to feel better, but the side effects are worse than the effect the pills suppose to have.

"Ryan you need to have something on your stomach otherwise your stomach will only get more upset." I tell him.

"I can't, sorry." He says. His gaze is focused onto the kitchen counter. He doesn't like to say 'no' to of us. He still feels that he has to do everything to please us. He still doesn't behave natural around us – like a teenager he's supposed to be.

"Ryan, your pills can't work if you don't eat something." I tell him. I feel bad forcing him take them. I place two of them in front of him, and the disgusted expression on his face tells me he doesn't want to take them.

"What about: I eat something, but we leave those away?" He suggests shyly. I can't. I know I have to. I'm his mother and I'm supposed to make all unpopular decision if the help him. But I can't. I can't force him to something that only seems to harm him.

"Okay. But I want you to eat at least one of Sandy's bagels." I tell him. I want him eating rather than being on these happy pills.

"Who was talking about me?" My husband enters the kitchen. The timing in this household is incredible.

"I said to Ryan, if he eats one of your bagels I'll throw these away?" I wave with the bottle of pills in front of his face making him understand what I mean by this. I don't want Ryan to notice that we have been talking about this. This meant we had been talking about him, and there's nothing more bothering him, as when someone starts talking about his issues.

"Sounds like a fair deal to me." He answers and then starts smearing the bagels. I can see that Ryan is suspicious about our behaviour. He's too smart, as if we could make up something in front of him. He detects every lie, every sham or facade.

"Do you have any plans for today?" I ask him, when Sandy hands him the bagel. He's not eating it immediately, but stares at it – as if he needs to be convinced in eating it.

"Uh…no. I mean Seth is probably out with Summer and I have lots of homework anyway." He answers. I feel sorry for him. Since Marissa is gone he often stays home alone. I can understand him, as single hanging out with a couple isn't really joyful - especially when the separation had been that hurtful.

"Could you look after Sophie then? Sandy and I have to go to my father. There's some kind of official event and I need to be there." I have a bad conscience asking him. I can imagine that at seventeen years old one has better plans spending his Saturday than with playing big brother. I feel as if I'm exploiting his situation. I should stop that. But the social life in Newport is so busy sometimes, and I can't stay away from every event.

"Yeah sure. No problem." He answers. If he at least acted like Seth and tell us what he expects as reward. Something like: but I choose dinner for tonight. Nothing. He just agrees. It's painful to see how little teenager he is; and I start to ask, why my other son allows him to draw back from him again. He uses to drag Ryan with him, wherever he went to; but not so lately. It feels like there's something standing between them, but nobody had said a thing yet. Nobody wants to make the first step. I only hope it's nothing serious. On the other hand, they are brothers. It would be unnatural if there was only good weather between the two of them. I'm sure it's only a brother to brother problem and nothing to worry about. Both are not the type for fighting with other people about anything. No, it's nothing serious.

"That's really nice. And I promise this is the last time for the next two months." I tell him and rub his back once again. If he was Seth I'd peck him thank you, but Ryan's not the kind of person loving this kind of affection.

"Don't worry. I'd say if it was too much." He answers and eventually takes a small bit from the bagel. Whether he'd do so? I doubt that, because it meant Ryan starts to complain and this is the last thing he'd do. No, I don't think he'd tell us, when he hasn't time or is bothered by his duties as big brother.

"But it won't be too long and tonight it's your turn choosing dinner, how 's that?" I ask him. I want at least pay him back a little for all his efforts.

"How about someone of you does my project in physics and therefore you can decide what we'll eat?" He asks, with a smile on his face.

"That bad?" I ask him.

"Well Marissa and I were supposed to do it together." He answers. He's still not over it. I sigh.

"Did you tell your teacher?" I ask him. I know he's much too proud for asking for help. I still remember the disaster with his history teacher.

"Yep." He says and I'm astonished. It seems as if he's on the right way. Maybe he only needs some more time. Maybe he only needs to overcome his fears and realise not everybody will harm him when he asks a question.

"And what did he say?" My husband asks on.

"He gave me another partner." He says.

"Oh…and I thought…"I start, because it meant that he doesn't have time for Sophie.

"She comes over and I guess she'll understand that I have to look after my…sister and anyway then I have a reason to flee." He says. My heart jumps when he considers Sophie as his sister, although it came a little hesitatingly.

"Is she that bad?" My husband asks.

"You don't wanna know." Ryan answers and takes another bite from the bagel. His appetite seems to increase already. No I don't regret my decision.

"Why? You can tell us." I encourage him.

"But I would need words to describe her, I'm not allowed to use in your presence." He says and the case is clear. He seems to hate this girl.

"Ryan, maybe she's not as bad as you assume. Get to know her a little more and I'm sure you'll see that she isn't a bad person." My husband says.

"Let me guess… no she is. When I met her first and asked her why she changed to Harbor she told me something about all the advanced courses and being able entering College faster, but I wouldn't understand her, because I don't know how it is having to think wise, before spending any money." Oh this was hard. Ryan wasn't quite the right person to tell this. I still remember the day, when I got to know that he was working on the construction side only pay for his mother's bills.

"And you didn't tell her that you spend sixteen years in Chino?" My husband asks.

"Not yet, I thought I'd wait for the right moment." He answers. What he really wants to say is: no I'm trying to leave this life behind and I don't want to get disturbed by this attempt.

"I'm sure she's not that bad. I mean, she'd been unconfident." I try to make him feel better about his new physic buddy.

"Right, that's why she thinks that my limping is a lame excuse for skipping sport classes. Wonderful girl." He says.

"You only have to survive this week and then you have vacation." My husband tries to comfort him.

"Yeah, physical therapy and therapist sessions non-stop. How I look forward it." The boy says. I look at my husband. I feel sorry for him. He's working so badly on all his issues and there's a visible progress, but he doesn't seem to notice it. My heart clenches every time when he says things like that. It makes me aware of how hard he must have to struggle – how much he still has to struggle.

"Oh sweetie, it's getting better and I'm sure you won't have to do all this for the rest of your life." I assure him and take him into my arms. He allows me and he has stopped flinching at touches. He starts to settle and to be comfortable around us. He's only not comfortable with himself.

"Hope so." He says and eats the rest of the bagel.

"Good boy, sticking to deals." My husband says. Ryan only answers with his famous glare and my husband only shrugs his shoulders. It's some kind of ritual between them. Sandy says something, suitable for children and Ryan just reacts with his glare.

"Okay guys, I go and take a shower. I'm sure she'll be over punctual." Ryan says and then leaves for the pool house.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N. Thanks for beating to ParisAmy and thanks for the reviews. Enjoy =)

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3.**

I step out of the shower. The hot steaming water has relaxed my cramping muscles and I'm ready for the fight. No, I'm not. I have no idea how to remain polite towards this bitch of a witch girl, when she's insulting me at every occasion. I hate her and this is not only linked to the fact that I miss Marissa. Again a ball of anger hits my stomach. How could she leave me like that? I told her that sleeping together was something very serious for me. Shit, she had known that I had wanted to stay with her for the rest of my entire life. I never had done this, if I had known that she would leave me. I mean yes, her Mom is a bitch and I know that life can be hell if your Mom is a not caring dragon. But Europe? This was doomed to failure. Long-distance relationship? Had been worth a try. But no, she had wanted to make a cut. Leave her life behind. Shit. Again I'm faced with the fact that people leave me alone when they've found something better. Marissa has Europe, Seth has Summer, Kirsten and Sandy have Sophie and soon I'll be the forgotten toy. I hate this thought. I know Sandy and Kirsten will try not to let this happen, but this is a natural way for things to go. Sophie is their real child. They can love her and treat her like they want to. She's not as broken as I am; she's not so troubled; she's not only problems. I pull my t-shirt over and my boxers and step out of the bathroom. Oh no. That's what I needed today. There she sits. My nightmare. The red haired bitch from Harbor High.

"Oh…s…sorry…your Mom let me in…an…and said I…can come in…I mean…here…oh" She starts stammering. She blushes. At least she's not hard-nosed. Good to know. Maybe I can pull myself together and keep myself from murdering her.

"Is okay." I only tell her and start looking for my jeans. Please let them fit today, I beg inwardly. My knee had been that bad swollen yesterday night that I fear that it still might be too much for my jeans. I don't watch her, but I feel that she's staring at the scars on my leg. Yes, beach trips aren't happening too often anymore. Shit, I should stop getting drowned in self pity. It's disgusting. Yes, the jeans fit. Maybe my leg has decided that it has enough of being just a painful sucker. I hope so.

"Oh…I…I guess I…should…apologize…for…for the thing…with your leg." She starts stammering. How I hate it if people aren't able to pronounce full fluent sentences.

"You couldn't know that." I only answer and grab my books and writing pad. "It's better if we go and work in side. We have more space there." I say and head to the main house. No, I don't want her in the pool house. I don't want her snooping around in my privacy.

"Okay." She only says and follows me. We enter the main house and Kirsten is busy warming up the baby bottle for Sophie.

"Kirsten, can we use the table inside?" I asked her. Sometimes she's working on weekends and needs the table and I don't want to interfere in this.

"Oh, yes. I have no work this weekend." She says smiling and then hurries up to Sophie. I catch a confused glance from Lindsay. I pretend as if I didn't recognize it. She doesn't need to know the story of my life. She already knows my name and that I don't fake the limping. That must be enough.

"Okay, I already prepared the questions, I'm sure the answers are correct so we only need to make the presentation." Hu? What the…what kind of girl is that? Does she think…I feel how the ball of anger inside gets bigger and bigger.

"Uhm…thanks…uh, but I thought this was supposed to be something like teamwork." I only answer.

"Yeah I know, but I also know that you rather like to spend your time on other things and…when I work alone it's faster done." She answers and this had been the last straw. No, I can't maintain my composure. I'm too young for that and I'm too annoyed by this bitch, as if I could. I let the book drop heavy onto the table. The thud makes her flinch.

"Could you do me one favour and not treat me like a dumb ass of water polo player?" I snarl at her. I don't want to scream. I have to wait until Kirsten and Sandy are gone.

"But I thought…I mean…" What did she think? That this comes out and I'm the sucker who has to pay the bill of her snotty self-righteousness? Oh no. I'm not going to be the one having to serve detention only because she's too good for doing some kind of project hand in hand with someone else.

"I don't care what you were thinking, okay? I work my ass off, to be able to make it into all advanced classes and I don't let it being ruined by you." Oh yes, I know what happens when they think you let others do your job. Luke had been the best example for this. I don't need this.

"Sorry, I didn't think that you take school that serious."

"I do, okay and now let us go over with." I only answer and open my writing pad. Honestly I'd already had prepared everything too, as I hadn't thought that my teacher would come up with a new buddy for me. I'd been glad if he hadn't.

"You…really have…oh…I…"She starts to stammer again. I don't know what's wrong with her. On the hand she behaves like the evilest bitch on earth and then this kind of behaviour? She definitely has serious issues to work on.

We start to compare our results. They are the same, nearly. It starts to flow and I'm glad for that, because I don't have the nerve to spend my whole Saturday with her and with Physics.

"Ryan honey, we're going out now. I left the baby phone on the kitchen counter." Kirsten calls out of the hallway.

"Yeah, have fun." I call back.

"Thanks, and if you get hungry, I left some money on the kitchen counter." Kirsten says and peaks into the kitchen.

"Okay." I answer.

"Meaning, she expects you to get hungry." Sandy adds.

"Alright." I only answer and roll my eyes. I start to question who the baby is in this household, because right now, I feel like I am.

"I just wanted to point it out once again." Sandy answers to my expression and then they both leave for their Newport party. I catch Lindsay's questioning look.

"What?" I ask her. I don't like if people don't say what they're thinking. Okay, well I don't belong to those either; but I assume that's not written all over my face when something's up on my mind.

"I just wondered when…your Mom was pregnant. She doesn't look like that." She says. I have the feeling as if she's pretty ignorant. She attends every of my classes – and yes this enough reason for me to rethink my idea of college and just change into other classes – and she want to tell me she hasn't noticed? How off is that? I mean does she really only live in her little world. Well I don't care. Saves me a lot of talking, because honestly: she seems to be a little nosey.

"One of the biggest mysteries around Newport. I have no idea. When she found out that she was pregnant, she'd already been somewhere between fourth and fifth month and you haven't seen anything." I answer. I still wonder why she hadn't noticed anything. I mean despite the change of your physical appearance there are more factors telling you that you're pregnant, or not?

"But…I mean…there's more than just…you know this exploding stomach." Lindsay says.

"I'm the wrong person to ask such questions." I only answer. We go on with our work. We had decided for a PowerPoint presentation. Okay, I had decided for it, as Lindsay has never worked with this program. But I mean, despite that she's bitchy and nosey, working with her is really easy. I mean I don't have to explain everything three times to her and she contributes a lot of own work, and she doesn't distract me as Marissa seemed to do. At this thought another wave of sadness hits me. It's strange, I'd never thought that I was that sad about…okay, I had been on this happy pills, no wonder that I hadn't noticed how sad I really was. I regret the decision to stop taking them. Our work get's disturbed by the sound of the baby phone.

"Sorry." I excuse me and then run upstairs. Well, what does run mean? I still feel unsecure taking stairs. I have the feeling as if me knee is wobbling. Sophie is lying in her crib, kicking her legs. Her face is red from crying and big tears dripping down her chin. I carefully take her out into my arms. The warm body immediately nestles into my arms - relaxing a little.

"Shh, everything's fine." I sooth her, rocking her up and down. "Shhh." I sooth her on and taker her into the bathroom of her parents' bedroom, where the pink changing table with the white bunnies stands. I carefully lie her down. This is nothing to worry about, just a routine. Seth hates changing nappies. Okay, Seth hates everything referring to body liquids. I take the old one off and throw it into the bin under the table. She had already stopped crying and starts sucking on her toes. It's incredible how flexible babies are. I clean her and put some cream on her skin. Her skin is still so smooth and warm. She giggles when I tickle her tummy.

"You like that, huh?" I ask how long her skin will remain smooth like that. Pretty long, I guess. She's well protected here. It'll take some time until she'll meet the rough world. I put her romper suit on. She's looking at me with her big blue eyes. I take her back into my arms and carefully back into her crib.

"Here we are." I tuck her in and turn to leave. I don't reach the door frame and she starts crying again. I go back.

"Hey." I take her again into my arms. "Missing Mommy and Daddy?" I ask her. With her little hands she grabs my t-shirt.

"Know what, we'll both go downstairs now, and then you laugh about me and Miss super witch. How does that sound?" I ask her. She starts giggling again, as if she had understood what I've said to her. I slowly go downstairs. I'm too afraid to drop her and let her fall down stairs.

"Here we are." I say, still rocking her when we reach the kitchen. I take her into the crib in the living room. Kirsten demands having one there as well, thus she can take care of her daughter every minute. I carefully lay her into the crib and give her the little cat. She takes it from me and immediately is occupied with her little toy.

"She's cute." Lindsay says. I hadn't noticed that she had joined me in the living room.

"Yep." I only answer.

"But this is not quite the man's job, or?" She says. I could slap her face for this sentence. Fact, her ignorance will get her into a lot of trouble.

"You must be in the know." I only answer, swallowing down my anger about this statement. If she knew. But I'm not going to tell her. She only looks at me and shuts up and I appreciate that.

"Let's get back to work." I say and we start to work on our project. It only takes two hours more and then our work is done.

"Wow, I didn't think that we would be that productive." She says when we watch our work. I only shoot glares at her.

"Oh…sorry." She apologizes again.

"Do you want a copy of that?" I ask her.

"Yeah, that would be great." She says.

"Okay, then I need your e-mail address to be able to send it to you." She nods and scribbles down her e-mail address and I send a copy of our work to her.

"Well, I can go home then and enjoy the rest of my free Saturday. Bad I haven't even made any plans." Again I only look at her. Yes, I'm used to people not having high expectations regarding me; but hell, I'm not stupid and she had witnessed it. I guide her out and wait for her to drive off in her car. She starts the engine and it starts to cough. Oh no, that's not a good sound. She starts the engine again and again.

"Shit!" She yells.

"Stop the engine! I'll have a look onto the motor." I tell her, and then I go and open the engine hood. Hot steam hits my face.

"Well, I guess your car can use a visit in the garage. The radiator hose burst. I can't fix that." I told her.

"Shit." She says once again and gets out of the car.

"Well, I would offer you a ride home, but Seth is out with Summer, and Sandy and Kirsten are out too. So I can only offer you a ride on my bike." I say to her. I want to be polite. She doesn't need to know that I hate her, and finding out that your car is rotten isn't quite the right moment to be faced with the fact that nobody likes you.

"No…is okay. I'll call my Mom." She says and picks her cell phone out of her bag. She turns her back to me. If she knows that I still can hear her?

"Oh no…but…okay…when? Alright…yes" She flips her mobile shut and then goes down the driveway.

"Hey, don't tell me you want to walk the whole way home." I ask her.

"I have no other choice."

"Did you pay attention to the sky?" I ask her. It was getting dark and it is only 2 pm what means it is going to rain today - probably thunderstorm again. I hate this kind of weather. It reminds me a lot of last year, and last year hadn't been the best of my life. No I don't want to be reminded of last year.

"Any other suggestion?" She asks me and she sounds irritated. Well, I could let her go home, but I just can't. I can't be such an asshole. I hate her and I wish I could just let her walk off, but no. I'm weak. My life here is making me sensitive.

"You can stay here and wait until someone is there to take you home." I suggest. Now it was out. I was sending myself into hell.

"Oh…I…don't know…I'm sure you already have other plans and…"

"Just come in." I free her from her cage of unfriendly insecurity. She slowly follows me back into the house.

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask her. I for my part, am starving and I have no idea when the last time that I had been hungry like that.

"Uh…yeah…why not." She answers. I go to the fridge and search for eatable things. I still can't warp my head around the eating habits in this household. The fridge is usually stuffed with everything and nobody cooks. I guess I'll never understand this. I pick some of the things and start to prepare something to eat.

"So, you cook?" She asks me. What did she think how I prepare something to eat? "Can I give you a hand?" She asks.

"Uh…no thanks…I guess I can prepare spaghettis without any major accidents." I answer her.

"Then let me set the table. I mean…after being so rude it should be me cooking." She says. At least she admits her mistakes.

"Okay, uh…plates are there and…knife, fork and spoon are…uh there." I tell her and then fix my concentration on preparing dinner. Shit! I swear inwardly. I have forgotten Sophie. But hell, she doesn't say anything since she's here. I fast warm up her bottle. The spaghettis could get ready by itself. I hold the bottle against my cheek, checking whether it isn't too hot. No, it isn't too hot, or too cold.

"Can you have a look at the spaghettis?" I ask Lindsay, before going to Sophie.

"Hey little girl, time for your lunch." I say, before lifting her out of the crib and taking her into my arms again. In the other hand I have the bottle. I sit down on the couch, thus Sophie can lean comfortingly back into my arms. She starts to refuse the bottle.

"Hey, already starving for the right shape? I guess you can wait with that." I tell her and she starts sucking her bottle.

"Uh…Lindsay…could you hand me that towel?" I ask her pointing at the towel lying on the table. She places the towel on my right shoulder.

"Thanks." I say, leaving my eyes on Sophie. She's a fast…well …drinker. She doesn't need more than ten minutes to empty her bottle.

"Shh, not too fast. We don't want you choking on your milk." I try to slow her down, but she's still too tiny to understand this. Satisfying her tummy is all she wants now, and she shouldn't have to worry about more than that.

"That's it. Everything's gone in this little tummy of yours." I gently rock her up and down. I don't have to wait long for the burp.

"Oh…don't let your Mommy hear that. That's not really girly-like." She nestles down into my arms. I can see how her eyelids become heavier and heavier until she falls asleep. I carefully lay her back into her crib and tuck her in, putting her cat into one of her arms.

"Wow, you're really good…in being a big brother." Lindsay says. "I don't think there are a lot of brothers around Newport Beach doing this kind of job that good." I only shrug my shoulders. I don't know what I'm supposed to think about this comment. One the other hand she can be the worse bitch I've ever met, but when it wasn't about school she can be really a nice person.

"Okay, I guess our lunch is ready too." I only reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N.: **Again a thanks to my beta and for the reviews. I post another chapter in case in won't be able to doing so too soon again.

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**4.**

We come home from our Newport party. I'm tiered and I need to get out of these cloths. Into the bargain it's raining cats and dogs outside and lightning and thunder are ruling the dark sky once again. A little kind of angst crawls down my spine. This weather reminds me of what had happened half a year ago. Sometimes I have trouble driving in this weather. I know it had been an accident which I couldn't have averted, but the feeling of guilt doesn't let off of me. We enter our house and we're greeted by…laughter? Can only mean Seth is home and the boys spend some time together. It's time for them to rejoin. I had the feeling as if something stood between them lately. On the other hand both are teenagers. They still develop; but they don't spend as much time as they used to together, and I doubt this is all linked to Marissa's departure. Since the baby is part of our family a lot of things have changed and I don't know whether I like all these changes. I have to talk to my son, to my oldest son. I need to know what's wrong between them and I'm sure Ryan never would tell me. When I'm in the kitchen I'm disappointed that it's not Seth who's there, but the girl that had come over for the project Ryan had to finish for school. She looks friendly and smart.

"Hey kids." I greet them.

"Hey." Ryan greets back. I look at him and I have the feeling as if Ryan is already better, since I saw him this morning. Maybe the antidepressants haven't been good for him. I feel sorry for having forced him to use them.

"Good evening Mr. Cohen." The girl gets up and formally shakes my hand.

"I'm Lindsay Gardner." She introduces herself.

"Nice to meet you." I answer. By this behaviour I know that she isn't one of these Newport Beach kids.

"Hi, sorry that it took us so long." My wife comes into the kitchen too. She's exhausted. The party had been more than boring. She goes straight to our daughter and picks her up. We all had hoped the rain would shorten the whole event, but no. Of course Caleb had been prepared for this incident and thus everything had gone on inside after the first drop of rain fell.

"Hey you, Mommy had been gone for too long, I know." She rocks our little daughter and steps back into the kitchen to us. Her glance falls onto the kitchen counter.

"Ryan, what is this supposed to mean?" She points onto the money that's still laying on the counter.

"That I made use of a full fridge and decided to cook instead of ordering." He answers. I look at my wife and we both are suspicious about that, as we both know that Ryan isn't much of a good eater lately.

"I can confess as eye witness." Lindsay intervenes shyly. She blushes.

"Well, then I'm glad someone had won his appetite back." Kirsten replies.

"Uh, Sandy…can I get the car? Lindsey's broke down and I don't want to let her walk in this rain." I want to say no. I don't want him driving in this weather. I want him home, safe and sound. But I also know that I can't punish the boy for what happened. He's already burdened enough and I don't want to let him know how afraid I am something might happen to him. He doesn't like it if I – we – worry about him. I've already had enough fights with Kirsten regarding this topic. I had forbidden Seth once to use the car in such weather and he then had just decided to take his skateboard. I had only been afraid he might have an accident. I had only wanted to save him this lesson. Of course he had caught a cold, which easily could have turned into pneumonia. My wife had been that upset that she told me, if I once again react that way, she wouldn't allow me driving either anymore. At least it had been me who had been involved in this accident. I have to get used to the idea that I'm not almighty, no matter how much it hurts. I have a quick look at my wife who tells me: hand him the keys.

"Sure, but be careful." I can't save me this sentence. I need to remind him of the danger of such weather. I don't want him to underestimate it.

"Okay, thanks. See you later." He says and goes to the door.

"Bye, have a nice evening." Lindsay says and follows him. We hear the door shut.

"Nice girl." Kirsten says, but I doubt Ryan sees that. He's still too occupied with dealing with Marissa's decision starting a new life in Europe. Also I remember the way he had been talking about her in the morning. No, I doubt he sees her as nice girl.

"Sandy, it's okay letting him use the car, even in this weather." My wife goes on. She has been reading my mind once again.

"We can't overprotect him. He would think that…he's only a burden for us, even more after the accident. I don't want to risk our peaceful and quite normal family life." She tells me and gives me our daughter.

"Well, we can be overprotective with you. Good to know that at least one doesn't bother being protected." I say to my daughter. She has these big blue eyes and I'm sure she's going to be a beauty as her mother.

"Sandy we both know how fragile Ryan can be when it comes to family issues. He needs his space and we should let him have it. Despite you'd never forbid Seth to drive in this weather." She tells me and massages my shoulder blades and I relax.

"At least not again." I remind her. She only sighs.

"I just can't get used to the idea that our boys are already nearly adults, and maybe soon leaving, with their own lives." I admit. The thought had been hunting me since Seth's sixteen's birthday. It's awful to think not playing a role in your children's life anymore – or at least not the huge one we were used to playing. But kids start to be independent. I just think that the time one has with his children is much too short.

"But we still have her and believe me. None of our boys will leave for good. They'll always come back." My wife says and I sigh. Being a parent is not always easy. Especially when it's about letting go.

It doesn't take Ryan long and he's back. I feel much better, knowing he's at home. I would just like to know where my other son is. I haven't seen him since Friday night. I have to brace myself to not to call him on his cell, just to checkwhether he's alright. My wife puts a calming hand onto my arm.

"If something had happened, we'd already know." She says and she's right. I can't stop worrying about my kids. If you'd nearly lost one of your kids, you're ready to do everything to never let this happen again. I can't allow this to happen again. It tells me that I've failed as a parent. I hear the door open and it's my other son coming in. Relief spreads all through my body.

"Hey Seth, I've already been close to calling a search party." I say.

"Yeah, very funny Dad." He says and disappears in his room. I have a look at my wife and she only shrugs her shoulders. It's time for a conversation. I go upstairs. Seth is never grumpy. There's something wrong with him and I'll find out.

"Seth, can I come in?" I ask him, talking to the door.

"If you have to." That's not my son. He never reacts that way. Why now? I open the door and watch him sitting in front of his computer. I sit down on the bed.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" I ask him. I'm talking to his back. He'd never turned his back to us. Why now?

"Not particularly." He mumbles. He's rejecting me? Hell, what's wrong with my son? This is not him I'm faced with. That's his body, but not him.

"Okay, then I'll just ask: what's wrong with you?" I ask him and he only shrugs his shoulders. I'll shoot myself, if I have now two of the type: not talking, only non verbal communication.

"What does that mean?" I ask him.

"Dunno."

"Okay Seth, stop it now and talk to me." I warn him. I'm not in the mood for one of these teeny games anymore. I'm glad we're over it in Ryan's case. I doubt I can bear Seth starting with it.

"Maybe Ryan's up to some talking." My son says, gets up and wants to leave. I have the feeling as if I was in the wrong movie. I just don't want to have heard what he had said, because it would mean something I don't want it to mean.

"Seth, this is about you. I want to talk to you, so tell me." I start from new.

"Since when is it about me?" He asks me and leaves me sitting on his bed; alone in his room. The case is clear, and I start to think about what we've done wrong through the last year. I don't know how to react to this. I go back into the kitchen and my wife looks questioning at me.

"What was that?" She asks me.

"I don't know, but I have the feeling as if we've done something utterly wrong." I tell her.

"Why?"

"Because it seems as if Seth is jealous of Ryan. He just asked me a second ago, since when is it about him." I'm flabbergasted. I can't think clear. Kirsten and I have tried so hard to balance our attention to both our boys. We'd tried to make Seth more comfortable with the situation we're actually faced with. We'd tried to explain him that Sophie's birth doesn't change anything in our feelings for him. He hadn't listened to us.

"Oh my god. We need to react, now." My wife answers. But how to react? He doesn't listen. We both go into the living room. Seth's playing his video games; once again alone. He had stopped asking Ryan, whether he wanted to join him. Now it becomes clear to me why. He wants to shut Ryan out of his life. We sit down on the couch behind Seth.

"Seth honey, what's wrong with you?" My wife asks, putting a hand onto our son's shoulder, but he drags it away. He never reacted that violent before.

"Seth, I know the last year had been very eddying and when we have done something that upsets you, you should give us the chance to sort things out." My wife goes on.

"Yeah, who cares?" He only mumbles. He doesn't even pay attention to our presence.

"We do Seth. We're really sorry, if you've gotten the feeling that we don't pay attention to you anymore, and we need to change that." I now step in. We have to sort this out. I don't want my son thinking we don't care about him anymore. Of course we care that's why his opinion always had been important to us. We'd asked him before we took Ryan in, whether he was okay with that and he had said yes. He had been the one suggesting the adoption. I can't explain to myself his sudden jealousy.

"Don't even try. You could lose some precious time." My son says and then leaves us sitting there dumbly. I look at my wife and her look tells that she's sad about this.

"We'll sort this out. Maybe he's only a little bit grumpy." I try to sooth her.

"Let's hope so. This is so unlike him. Did we really pay so less attention to him?" She asks me.

"I don't know." I only answer. Truth is: you don't know that you've made a mistake until someone tells you that you have.

We don't see Seth until dinner. As Ryan came home he had wanted to go to Seth. They don't spend much time together anymore. Not as much as they used to. After only five minutes Ryan came back and disappeared in the pool house. He hadn't said anything. He never would do. He never would complain, about anything.

We sit at the dinner table. It's awkward silence. Seth doesn't talk; my wife never talks a lot and Ryan neither. I try to hold the atmosphere upright, but I can't. It all slips into a heavy burdening silence. We all know something's wrong, but nobody dares to address it. After a while Seth shoves his plate away.

"Can I go?" He asks. At least he tries to stick to our rules.

"Why? Where do you want to go?" My wife asks him.

"I wanted to go to the movies. There's a new X-Men I wanted to watch." He answers. His voice is calm and only by listening to it, nobody would recognise something is wrong with him.

"But you only came back a few hours ago." My wife answers. Let go. That's what's hard for her – even harder than for me. But I know she's afraid that we can't solve this; that we won't get the opportunity to sort this out.

"Okay, you know where the car keys are." I say, I don't want any argument coming up. We had tried to get through to him and we failed. We need to think wisely about what to do to make him open up to us, but it hurts. He'd never been the one having a problem telling us what was bothering him. He used to tell us straight away what happened, what he doesn't like, what's bothering him. Seth gets up and grabs the car keys and then leaves. I watch Ryan lifting his head, watching his friend – brother - go off. I can see he's hurt. He had been waiting for Seth to ask him, whether he wanted to join him. Seth had stopped asking this question. It's awful to see the both of them so unnaturally separated. Worse of all, it was our fault that both get hurt by this. I watch Ryan ducking his head again. I look at my wife. She's helpless. We need to do something. Ryan remains at the table until we've finished eating and helps Kirsten clean the table and dishes as usual.

"Uh…Ryan…I was thinking about getting a movie from the video store." My wife suggested. It's like we have to apologize towards him for what we've done wrong.

"Uh…yeah…cool…but I'm really tired. Lindsay had been a tough fight." He answers. Of course he doesn't want to burden us. He barely is around when Seth isn't. They both belong together. I decide to follow Ryan into the pool house.

"Is there something I should know about?" I ask him. I hope I can get something out of him.

"No…why?" He asks me.

"I just wanted to make sure that everything's alright." I reply.

"I think so. Why shouldn't it be?" He asks again. He has no clue what I want, and thus I have to be more precise.

"I have the feeling as if there is something wrong between you and Seth." I let the cat out of its bag.

"Uh…no…I mean we're both on the edge with our nerves. You know because of the exams and the projects. It'll change, if the next week finds its end." He answers. I don't know whether he's just made this up, or whether he really believes it. Right now I would appreciate it, if he really believes it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N.: **Thanks to my Beta and for all the reviews ;)

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**5.**

The next morning I resolve to talk to my eldest. I can't bear the thought that he's thinking he doesn't mean anything to us. I can't handle the feeling having failed him. I have to do something. I have to make him feel that he's my son and that I care. My husband is out surfing. Ryan usually sleeps into the day, thus there is enough time for my son and me. I hear him coming down stairs. He goes straight to the coffee machine, without even recognising I'm there. I clear my throat to make him aware of my presence. He doesn't react.

"Okay Seth, I know you're upset and you're angry with us. But could you at least explain to me what we've done wrong to deserve being treated only by your ignorance?" I ask him. I have to know what's going on. I have to work this out. My son answers with shrugging his shoulders and then wants to disappear in his room. Oh no. I have enough of that. I can't stand people that blame you and make you have a bad conscience, without telling you the reason.

"Oh no Seth, you'll come back here, sit down and tell me what's wrong." I command. I demand answers and I'll get them.

"How low is that? Do I really have to tell you?" He answers smugly. That's so out of character of him. That can't be my son I'm talking to.

"Seth, stop being silly and talk to me." I have to brace myself to not to scream at him.

"Why not? Others are allowed to be silly too." He answers.

"Who? Seth whom do we – your father and I – allow to be silly?" I ask him. I want answers. I want to change the situation. I can't live with the thought that my son is hurt.

"Ask Ryan." What? No. This…have we?

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him. I have an inkling at what it could. I just want to give space to this thought.

"Just think of it." I'm too flustered to stop him from leaving. This is exactly the moment, in which I start to doubt that we had made the right decision, but it's too late. This was exactly what I feared might happen, but it's too late. Why had we thought he could cope with this? Yes, he has had the idea. He'd been the leading animus behind it. But we should've stayed rational. And then? Then I would miss something. Or not. I don't know. I'm too sad and too upset as if I could grab a clear thought. I'm angry and annoyed. I'm despaired, because I can't make things right anymore. I have no idea how to react. No matter how, I would hurt one of them. No, I cannot give up now. I follow my son. Again he's sitting in front of his PC; he does a lot lately.

"Seth, I want you to tell me what you think we do allow Ryan, and don't allow you." I say and sit down on his bed.

"Seth, I can't make a change if you don't tell me." I say to him. Eventually he turns around and looks at me.

"It's…if Ryan is pissed: he runs away, gets drunk and smokes and…you just tolerate it and I can't even be upset?" He tells me.

"Do you really think we tolerated it?" I ask him. I don't think that we've tolerated his outbursts, or have we? I think back and try to reconstruct all the conversations we've had.

"Would I say so, if I didn't?"

"We didn't tolerate it. Every time when he'd come home drunk we've had serious conversations with him."

"Yeah and I would have been grounded." Now I know where the cat jumps: the problem that we can't treat both the same.

"Right, we should have done so. But you also know that it had been a problematic situation for us and for him. And you also know that, even though we would have grounded him, he probably never would have stuck to it." I try to explain him why the difference.

"Then you should've reacted."

"And how? We eventually managed to persuade him seeing a therapist. That was all we could have done. Seth, I'm only going to tell you this once and I ask you not to let Ryan know that I told you. But Ryan isn't as strong as he seems to be, neither physically nor mentally. The slightest wrong reaction and he could collapse like a house of cards." I hope this can make him understand.

"Yeah sure. That's always the reason." He says and turns back to his computer.

"Seth, please. We try our best to treat you the same, but sometimes it's just not possible."

"You don't even try to." I can hear my son's anger, but I'm helpless. How to tell him that we're trying our best?

"What don't we even try?" My husband comes in. His hair is wet from the sea, and I only, reluctantly let his good mood vanish in this atmosphere; but I have to.

"He thinks that we don't treat him the same as Ryan." I tell him. My husband sits down on the bed next to me.

"And what makes you think so?" He asks him. He starts his dissection. I hope he can reach more.

"I already told Mum." My son answers.

"He thinks we have tolerated Ryan's drinking and running." I inform my husband and he nods.

"I don't think we tolerated it. We've had so many arguments about his behaviour. We had one fight after another about how to change it. We had so many about it that I can't even think of one day back then we didn't have one." My husband reveals the painful truth. I look at my son and he doesn't make the impression of being convinced.

"Seth, what do you think we should have done; or what do you think we had done different, if it had been about you?" My husband asks direct.

"I…dunno…it's just…" He started to stammers…"Sometimes a slap into the face doesn't harm." He answers smugly and turns his back to us. I can't believe what I'm hearing. How can my son come to such conclusions? That's far away from what he expired in our family.

"Are you serious with that?" My husband asks on. How can he remain calm after this? I can't. I can't get my emotions into order about this.

"Seth, we never did this to you. Explain me why…we should act different regarding Ryan."

"Because Ryan…just behaved like he deserved it then. You couldn't treat him like me and everything else didn't work, that's what you're saying." I don't understand why he hadn't said anything when all this had happened, what he's complaining about. Why hadn't he told us from the very beginning? Why only now? Why hadn't he told us earlier?

"Seth, this here is not funny, and I don't want you to think things like that and I want you to tell me what's really behind this, because this here is ridiculous. If it had been that bad, you could've come then to us, but a half year later is just unfair." My husband says. He gets up and I follow him. My mind is blank. We go down stairs. I have so many fears in my heart right now. What if Seth really feels like that? What if we can't sort this out? I don't want to lose my son through such farce. What if Ryan gets to know this? How will he cope? Will he cope anyway? What can I do to prevent this getting any bigger than it already is? Why hadn't I noticed that this had been bothering my son? Why hadn't I noticed that it had been bothering him anyway? We go into the kitchen and I sit down on one of the stools.

"And what do you think this is about?" I ask my husband. I can't see that what he says is different from what he means. For me the case is clear. We have done a huge mistake, one we can't make undone. One I don't want to make undone in somehow. Again I'm afraid of losing my family. I'm again afraid my family might fall apart. I hate these fears. I can't bear them anymore and I don't want to bear them anymore. I'd thought things were started to get back to normal again. But I'd been wrong. Sometimes I want to escape. I want to flee from the institution called family.

"I don't know yet, but I can't imagine that Seth is really jealous of Ryan. He had known that he has to share us with someone else, and he never had made the impression of being reluctant to do so. I can't explain why he does now. This is not Seth and we both know that." He says. I agree in one point: this is not the Seth I know. My Seth never would have treated us like that.

"Know what? I have an idea." I tell him. I'm eager to make my son working this out. We're going to solve this.

"What?"

"We should make use of the vacations. What do you think?"

"You mean a holiday trip?" He asks me sceptical. I only nod. This is exactly what we all need. After the last half year we're all exhausted and need to regain some energy. We need this time to grow back together as a family – to become one with all our new members we'd never thought of welcoming them in our circle.

"And where to?"

"Any preferences?" I ask him. This was the first vacations in years we would spend as family. We've found our way back to a family life, now we only need to accept it and start with being a family.

"You know, where we used to go." He answers. I already have had the same idea. We used to go there at least once a year when Seth had been my little Seth. This was a good place to relax and start to sort things out again. This place was perfect for all of us. It offered something to all of us.

"But don't you think Sophie is a little too young for such a trip?" He asks me.

"Sandy, Seth hadn't been much older when we went there the first time. It'll be good for us as family. Look Seth can go sailing, you can go windsurfing. I can sit in one of the beach chairs and read."

"And what about Ryan? His knee still doesn't allow him any sports."

"Sandy, for Ryan it'll be the first time he'll leave the state, probably leaves the country. Besides he still can swim and I don't think that it'll get boring for him." No, I won't allow anyone destroying this idea. I want this trip and I'll get it.

"So, hotel or summer residence?" I ask him. My decision is made, what means the decision is made for everyone in this household.

"Summer residence, but one at the beach with a thatched roof." He answers with a smile and kisses me.

"Why thatch roof?"

"Because you can hear the wind when it's really stormy." He says.

We sit at the dinner table. I have no idea when Ryan had decided to get up this morning, but since the accident he needed a lot more sleep and rest than he used to need. I'm sure this trip will help him to win some of his health back. The fresh and salty sea air will help him to get back on tracks again, I'm sure about that. The atmosphere is still strained. But I want to wait with my news, until dinner is finished. This wasn't just something you said as if it were nothing. This needs the right moment. It is unusual quiet. Neither my husband nor my eldest son starts one of his stories. I can't stand this silence at the dinner table. This feels unnatural. This isn't my family. Nobody really seems to be hungry at all as everybody is poking his food. I start to count in my head, to not to explode over this behaviour. I can't stand it anymore. I have to break this. I lay my knife and my fork aside. I look at my husband and he does too.

"Boys," I start to get their attention. Seth only looks irritated and Ryan has the what-went-wrong-this-time-look in his face. No, I don't like both expressions.

"Your Dad – Sandy – and I were thinking about the vacations and we came to the conclusion that we should spend it as family together." Now it is out. Now I only needed to wait for their reactions.

"What earns us this honour?" My eldest son asks and…I should have expected that, but I thought after this morning he had come to his mind.

"Exactly this." My husband answers. "We think this is a good measure to work things out as the family that we are. This is our chance to get our peaceful and harmonic family life back that we've lost somewhere in the last year." I'm not sure, whether I liked that he mentioned last year, because I see a vial of shadow running of Ryan's face. Yes, he still blames himself for everything. But we hadn't been able to make him stop with that. Maybe it was impossible. This had happened too much for too long. My husband and I had gotten used to the idea that we can't change the way he was feeling about things. It had been a rocky road leading to this comprehension. We could only explain to him that the way he felt was wrong regarding to his life with us. We only can hope he'll understand one day.

"You want us all four…err five…well four and a quarter to stick together in this house the whole summer? This never will work." My son answers. I can't believe his suspicion. He usually would be happy about this.

"No, we don't say we stick around here. We decided to leave this state for a couple of weeks." My husband goes on. I watch both boys' reaction. My eldest looks in a positive way astonished and my youngest? He doesn't look too convinced. Poor boy never has left the state. This must be a little scary for him.

"And where did you think we go? A state at the east coast?" My eldest is all for it. He loves travelling and getting to know other places or just leaving this one behind to forget about the everyday life.

"East is the right direction. We're planning to go to Föhr." There it was. My eldest son's eyes widened with amazement. My youngest look confused. He doesn't know what we're talking about.

"You mean catamaran-Föhr? Where the sea is rough and the wind strong? Where sailing is much more fun than in the shallow waters of Newport?" He can't believe his luck.

"Yes, we mean this Föhr." I answered.

"Great and when?" Only this news made him being the joyful polite boy he used to be. Does this mean that his emotional outburst hadn't been serious? That he hadn't been serious with it? But if he hadn't been serious with it, why had he said all this? He knows that this was nothing to laugh about. Why had he said this? Only to make us having a bad conscience.

"I thought about Friday after school, latest Saturday morning. I don't want to lose any precious time."

"That's so awesome. I can't imagine when we'd been there the last time. Oh my God, I need to look, whether my old sailing cloths still fit, in case I'll get the chance to sail at wind force seven with heavy rain and spindrift clutching my face. Oh, that'll be great summer vacation." My eldest says as jumps up from his seat and then runs upstairs, probably checking whether he needs new sailing cloths. I honestly doubt his old still fit. He has grown a lot since the last time we had been to Föhr. I look at my youngest who still sits at the table. He can't hide his discomfort about this idea. I just don't know what's causing this discomfort.

"Everything okay with you?" I ask him.

"Uh…yeah…" He stammers. He's lying.

"You have no idea where or what Föhr is, right?" My husband asks. The boy shakes his head.

"Dude, it's North Sea island, in front of the German and Danish coast. Mom, my sailing cloths don't fit." My eldest is back and shows me his, much too short trouser for sailing.

"Don't worry, we have enough time to get you some new." I assure him. I've never seen him this excited since he had been a little boy.

"So, we leave the country." Ryan slowly concludes further.

"Yes man, we leave the country, we leave the continent. How long do you need to understand this easy fact?" My eldest hisses. Okay, there's definitely something wrong between the both of them. Now I would only like to know whether Ryan knows what is wrong, or not. My husband had said that Ryan doesn't know. I can't say that for sure. But I know that we'll have enough time to find out when we've eventually reached Föhr.

"That means plane?" Suddenly Ryan is so unsecure.

"Yes and ferry and now stop damaging my happiness about these news with your fretfulness." Fretfulness? Is Ryan fretful? I hadn't noticed. I look at my husband who only offers me the look: I have no clue.

"Oh…yeah…sorry." Ryan says and then disappears in the pool house and doesn't come back again. I check on him, before I go to bed. He sits at his desk, writing something.

"Hey, shouldn't you be in bed?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I just wanted to have a look onto this presentation before tomorrow." He says, shuts his laptop and looks at me.

"Ryan there's no reason to feel uncomfortable about these vacations." I tell him and sit down on his bed – pointing at the space next to me. He slowly sits down next to me.

"I'm sure this will be a nice experience for all of us." I assure him, rubbing his back.

"It's…just…you…know plane and ferry and…this distance…just…"

"It's a new experience for you and I'm glad that I can offer you this. Sweetie, there's nothing to be suspicious about, or to be afraid of." I try to make him feel more comfortable about this idea.

"Oh…okay." He only says.

"And now go to bed. You still seem as if you're coming down with something and I don't want you to suppress anything." I tell him and peck him good night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N.: **Thanks for betaing and the reviews. And yes, F**ö**hr. I was a little homesick when I wrote some of these chapters, might have been one of those ;) If you don't like Föhr, then just think of another place you would like to see (again) ;)

* * *

**6.**

I'm glad that the presentation is over. Lindsay and I were quite a good team; but nevertheless I'm glad it's over. I'm on my way to the parking lots. Unfortunately the day isn't over yet. I have sixty minutes physical therapy lying ahead. Am I glad when that's over one day. I'm fed up with all of this. I don't want any of this anymore, neither physical therapy nor the therapy sessions with this shrink. I'm grateful that Sandy and Kirsten agreed to stop these happy pills. I only hope this shrink won't start to make a fuss about it. Okay, he will. I see Seth already sitting in the Range Rover. I go to the passenger side and open the door.

"Reserved for Summer Roberts." He snarls at me. I wonder what's wrong with him lately. He's always in such a bad mood and vents his spleen on me. I should ask him what I've done wrong. He doesn't even want to play video games with me, and in the classes we have together he doesn't want to sit next to me. I only hope I haven't done something that could ruin our friendship.

"Okay Seth, what's wrong with you?" I ask him. I need this answer, because I can't deal with this Seth any longer.

"Nothing." He doesn't even look at me. He doesn't come into the pool house in the morning to tell me his newest adventure, or what he and Summer have been up to. He doesn't even talk to me about his comics anymore. He's ignoring me.

"This doesn't look like nothing. Seth, when I've done something wrong, then you need to tell me, and give me the chance to apologize." I tell him.

"Apologize for what?" Summer comes up to us. I make her space to get into the passenger seat next to Seth.

"I would like…"

"Nothing. C'mon, let's go Summer." Seth says and starts the engine, when Summer has taken a seat next to him.

"Could you at least give me a lift home?" I ask Seth.

"You can walk." He says and then drives off. I have trouble to believe that this is Seth. The Seth I know never would have behaved like that. There's definitely something wrong with him. I feel the fear that what is between him and me might break as it got broken between me and my brother Trey. I'm pretty much sure that this is my fault. I behaved like a prick the last few months. It only had been a matter of time until I had to meet the consequences. I hope that I can sort things out with Seth, before the vacations will start. I don't want the whole family suffer from my former behaviour.

"Hey, do you need company?" Lindsey asks. I'm not sure whether I want her to be my company. On the other hand the whole way alone is even less fun.

"Uh…yeah…cool." I only answer.

"Bad atmosphere between you and your brother?" She asks me. Why is this girl interested into other people's lives? This is so not Newport.

"Something like that." I only answer. I don't want to go into detail. This is not her business. Hell, why do I go home with her?

"So, our project went pretty good today." She starts a conversation.

"Yeah…went good." I answer.

"You're not much of a talker, right?" She asks me. She only wants to know whether she bothers me or not.

"Nah, not really. Usually Seth's doing the talking." I answer.

"Hey Chino, were did you leave your dumb ass friend death-bred-Seth?" Oh. My. God. Exactly what I need today. As if the day hadn't been bad enough already. I don't need this chest shaving yeti. Unfortunately it stands in the middle of the way and I can't avoid it, because it's like a dog, following everyone who might feed him.

"Ew and who is this? Another geek? You know what they say about red haired woman? Always good for a cheap fuck." This is even less than intellectually undemanding. This is disgusting. I mean…I don't like her either…well, don't like is a little too hard…well she's not my best friends, but nevertheless it doesn't justify this Neanderthal's actions.

"Stop it Luke." I answer. I look at Lindsay and I don't need to have a psychological degree to see that she's quite afraid of this sucker. She shouldn't be. He's not worth it. She has class, and although she knows how to drop a brick she's at least polite while doing so.

"How do you want to stop me – cripple?" He answers. Why can't he just stop rising my adrenal level? I step one step forwards. Now we're face to face.

"Only because my leg isn't a full hundred percent it doesn't mean I can't kick your ass." I should keep my mouth shut. I can't afford any more trouble. I'm glad I've been able to stay out of any trouble since my ego tripping time. I can't do this to them. But I also can't allow Luke getting through with this shit.

"O-ho, there's someone fighting above his weight." I leave my arms down, but I clench my fists. This was an automatism I had no control over. When I smell a threat I need to be prepared. Luke starts pushing me.

"Oh, still a little unsteady on your feet?" He snarls. I'm only five seconds away from giving this smug ass of a sucker what he deserves. I have to take deep breaths. I can't do this. This only leads to trouble, but I'm so fucking angry right now.

"You and your little bitch better leave now." He says. I already would have if you hadn't stepped into my way.

"I already would if a dumbass hadn't have stepped in my way." I snarl. Luke steps one step forward. There is only black rage and this one desire: I want to punch this ugly smug face. I want to give him hell. I want him to stop bothering my friends and me. I hate him. I hate him so awfully. I'm close to be capable to choke him.

"C'mon Ryan, he isn't worth it." Lindsay grabs my arm and pulls me away. I don't want to leave now. I want to hit this guy that he doesn't know where up and down is. But fortunately she does so. She keeps me out of a lot trouble, trouble I can't afford. I need some time to come down again. My whole body had been tensed up, I'm sure my neck will be sore this evening. How I hate this guy.

"Thanks." I say to Lindsay. I'm really glad she had been there and I'm glad that she's a smart and reliable girl. Hell, she can be really nice if she doesn't start with her prejudices – which are commonly right regarding to the average Newport teenager in our age. Well, she can't even know that I'm not one of them. When I look into the mirror there's not a lot from the rough Chino boy left I'd once been. I've turned more and more into a Newport style of boy, and I'm not sure whether I like this. Isn't this some kind of betrayal? I mean I grew up in Chino, my family had been there…right had been there and now my family – or what considers itself as my family – lives in Newport. No, I still can't consider them a hundred percent as my family and I hope they don't notice that. It's so embarrassing. Sessions of counselling still hadn't had the preferred effect.

"Why does he call you Chino?" Lindsay asks and gratefully drags me out of my screwed thoughts.

"Dunno, but I should start calling him Newport Beach, but it's too long." I don't even notice that she doesn't seem to know.

"Why?" She looks at me and I see the confusion in her eyes.

"Because he's from here?" I ask back. She still looks at me and I still get that she doesn't know or better: hadn't noticed.

"I still…wait…you…no, I mean that can't be true , right?" She asks me and I hear her unbelieving.

"Did you never notice that Seth and I don't share the same last name?" I ask her. She can't tell me she hadn't noticed. This is more than obvious. Although of the adoption, I still was enrolled as Ryan Atwood. It's better that way, as it gives less rise to rumour and gossip.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Seth Cohen, Ryan Atwood. Some bells are ringing?" I ask her on. I don't want to have to tell her the whole story. I don't like to bother others with my story. Okay I'm no big fan of telling it either.

"What, I mean…I thought…you live with the Cohen's." She looks more confused from second to second and I'm forced to help her out, if I want to or not.

"Yes I do…they took me in a little more than year ago …foster care first and…half year ago they adopted me." I tell her.

"Oh…okay…and you're from Chino, originally?" She asks on. Man, am I tired from all these questions. I only nod, hoping she has found all answers she needs. I don't want to go into the depth of this topic. No, I don't feel comfortable talking about it, because it always follows something like: and what happened to your parents? Do you know them? Do you still meet them? And so on.

"And your real parents?" Bam. No, I don't want to answer this and no our relationship isn't as close as if I would tell her. No, no, no.

"Just…not…I'm just not confident with this topic; okay?" I answer. She only nods and I see she feels guilty. Man this girl was the most honest person I've ever met. You can read in her face what she feels, and what she thinks.

"But you couldn't know that." I add to make her feel better about this. Her expression lightens up. The rest we just talk about nothing.

When I enter the house I already feel that my leg didn't like the walk home. It doesn't hurt yet, but it feels strange. I can't even think about my physical therapy. Oh my God this will be hell.

"Hey Ryan, you're late." It's Kirsten who's busy feeding Sophie.

"Uh…yeah…just got stuck with some friends and…you know." I don't tell her that Seth had forced me to walk home. I want to work this out without his parents.

"Okay. Are you hungry?" She asks me.

"No…just a little tired." Hell am I tired. I can't even think of anything else than dropping down on my bed and just do nothing.

"I tell you, you're getting a cold." Oh no, I'm not. I know how it feels and this doesn't feel like a cold, but after a marathon and this marathon had happened without running. I don't want to get sick again. I hate to be sick. And nevertheless they want to go onto vacations. I can't get sick.

"I'm not." I only say and then go in to the pool house. I drop my bag and fall down onto the bed. It doesn't take a second and I fall asleep.

"Hey, sweetie, time to get up." Someone says and ruffles through my hair. No, I don't like that and I don't want to get up.

"'m tired." I only say and turn to the other side.

"Ryan, you need to get up now. You're already late and since when do you sleep at day anyway?" Since Seth makes me walking home. I open my eyes and the bright light hurts. Immediately a throbbing pain occurs somewhere in my head and I wish I'd never opened my eyes.

"We have to go." Kirsten says, smiling. I only nod. I don't want to.

"Give me five seconds, okay?" I tell her. I want to get up, but I feel dizzy. I sit back down again and try from new, in slow motion.

"Is everything fine?" She asks.

"Yeah…just got up too fast." She bores her glace into me.

"Okay, but be quick." She says. I disappear in the bathroom and take something for my headache. I can't say that the effect of the pills had kicked in during the day. But I had to be fit for the therapy session. I splash some cold water into my face and then go to Kirsten, who's already waiting for me.

"How can you overstrain your leg?" Kirsten asks me furiously, when we're back. I sit on the couch in the living room, a huge ice pack on my swollen knee. I can't tell her. If I did…no, I don't even think about that.

"I mean you've just been in school today, or is there something I should know about?" She asks me. I don't know, but her fury doesn't help with my headache. I just want to go back into the pool house and lie down again. I'm tired, my leg hurts and my head and no, I'm not getting a cold.

"Ryan, are you even listening to what I say?" She asks me again, I only nod. What shell I tell her?

"Maybe this therapist isn't good enough." She goes on in her fury.

"Kirsten could you stop this, please?" I try to calm her down. My head can't bear her frustration any longer.

"Ryan, this is serious. I mean…"

"Kirsten I know that this is serious, but can't it just be that I have some kind of bad leg day? We shouldn't overstate this."

"Overstate? Ryan!" She calls out and her voice shrills in my ears that my head feels close to exploding.

"I just don't want you to overreact about this." I admit, without telling her that her pitchy voice makes my head explode. I hate it when she starts to worry, and she already worries unnecessarily too much about nothing.

"Are you sure it's not as bad?" She finally asks, noticing that it's my body we're or better she's talking about.

"Yep." I only answer and let my head drop against the pillows of the couch. I'd never thought that my head was that heavy; but indeed it is.

"Do you know where your brother is?" She asks me. Brother? Brother, although right now I'm not sure whether we can be considered as brothers. Hell, I have to sort this out – whatever it is.

"I dunno, he went off with Summer…" and I won't tell her that it had been directly after school, although it feels like lying to her and I thought I had stopped with this lying thing, but I can't change it. I'm not going to rat on Seth.

"I hope he'll…" We get disturbed by a door slammed shut. It's Seth. Am I glad that I don't have to make up some story now.

"Hey Seth: where have you been?" Kirsten asks him. His face tells me, he doesn't want to answer this question, as he doesn't want to answer any question.

"Out with Summer." He says and is on his way upstairs. Nice, he's looking into my direction but pretends as if I'm not there. Hell that's not Seth. There is definitely something wrong and I want to know what it is.

"Hey, Seth wait can you do me a favour?" She asks him. His face tells me 'no'.

"Your Dad and I need to go out tonight and I need someone taking care of Sophie." She says.

"Ryan's here." He answers and I don't know how I should feel about that. Sure, if it had been Trey saying that I would've been pissed. But it's Seth and I'm not sure, whether I'm allowed to be pissed at Seth. It just seems to be wrong. It would be like betrayal.

"Yes, but he's…" handicapped "his knee is badly swollen and I want you to take care of Soph." Kirsten insists.

"Everything revolves around Ryan and Sophie. Do you know how annoying that is?" My mind goes blank and I have no idea what to think or say about that. I can't say anything. This is the proof or? This…is…

"Seth, stop it." Kirsten starts, but I don't want her to fight with her son only because of me. Shit. I knew I only would cause trouble. I knew it.

"It's okay, I…I can handle Sophie." I say. I don't want them to fight and especially not in my presence, and not when I was the reason for the fight. I get up. I want to leave for the pool house. I need time to think about what Seth had said. I can't. My knee gives way with a throbbing pain. Shit. This is not good. No, no, no.

"No Ryan, I …" And then she starts something, but I don't listen to it. I can't. I don't want to hear all this. I want to be invisible again. At the end Seth stays home, reluctantly and pissed. Kirsten and Sandy leave, upset. I remain. I watch Seth on his way into his room. I have to do something.

"Seth…wait." I call after him, but he doesn't listen. I get up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my knee and head, and follow him. He's sitting in his room.

"Seth, tell me what's wrong." I ask him. No I demand him. I want answers, the truth.

"What do you care? You already intruded our life successfully. There's nothing more for you to do, or?" He says. I swallow hard at these words. I don't show him what I feel when he says these words.

"Seth, is this what you feel?" I ask him again. I look into his eyes. He nods and then turns away.

"And you haven't found a better time to let me know? It's a little late now for making things undone." I say to him. This here wasn't supposed to happen. This not even happened with Trey…but…Trey was… is my brother.

"Don't worry, if I had known that after you come here, my life would completely vanish in the lands of ignorance, I would have done something to prevent this." I try not to let these words hurt me, but it's a little hard, as I never had expected this from Seth.

"And what shell I do in your opinion?" I ask. I don't want Seth being mad at his parents only because of me. I can't stand this. I knew from the very beginning that this decision was wrong, and if I'd been in any state of being capable of anything, I would've prevented it. This had been a mistake, a very bad mistake. I never should have allowed them to do so. I should have run earlier.

"Don't worry, as you said it's already too late to do something." His voice is cold and steely and I'm afraid he really means what he says. I can't reply to that. I'm mute. I'm…astonished by this outcome.

"Is there something else you want from me?" That you tell me you didn't mean what you've said; that you're just mad and in a bad mood; that you just have no idea what you're talking about.

"No…sorry…"I say and then leave. I scarcely managed my way downstairs when the baby phone starts screaming. I don't want to go upstairs. I turn around and go back. I only make the stairs slowly. Seth doesn't make the attempt to help out. I go to Sophie. She shouldn't have to suffer under this situation.

"Hey, little girl." I take her into my arms. I look onto the clock. "You're hungry right?" I tell her. I carefully take her downstairs.

"Just go on sucking up on the 'rents." Seth calls after me.

"Stop whining and help me." I answer. I don't want to play nice little brother, when I'm not in the mood for it.

"Do it yourself, I'm not your slave. I don't even get why you do all this shit. They're even not your parents." I close my eyes to black the last sentence out. He hadn't said this, or? _They aren't even your parents_. No, my parents…are dead. He's right. Shit, why does it hurt, when he confronts me with the most obvious things? I shove this thought and the feelings aside. I carefully carry Sophie into her crib. I 'run' into the kitchen to heat some water up. Sophie starts crying again. _They're not even your parents. _I have to get rid of this. I 'run' back and pick her up again. Her crying isn't helping with my increasing headache. I already feel exhausted, but Sophie can't suffer under the tension between Seth and me. I slowly rock her up and down, while I watch the milk not getting too hot. It doesn't take long for Sophie to start crying into my ear. _They're even not your parents. _Shit, this is not good. I feel how something inside starts breaking into pieces and it hurts. No, I'm not overtaxed it only seems as if, and when the phone starts ringing I'm flustered.

"Seth, can you please pick up the phone?" I call up, while I check the bottle's temperature. "Seth, please!" I call up. The phone doesn't stop ringing; Sophie's crying become's louder and louder. _They're not even your parents._ I pick up, still rocking Sophie. Well, whoever it had been hadn't been patient enough. Anger arises in me. Seth could at least have done this. I go back to the boiling water. Sophie starts kicking and struggling out of my arm. I have to hold her tighter. _They're not even your parents._ I need to get my head concentrated on something else. I can't bear this sentence once more. I pick the bottle, but it's too hot, and in a reflex I drop it, spilling the milk all over the floor. I want to grab the towel, but my right leg loses grip to the ground. I slip. I try with my free arm to catch hold, but I only reach the towel. I can't stop the fall. With a thud I land on the hard kitchen floor. An awfully pain runs through my right leg, numbing everything else. Sophie only cries even more and I fear I might have hurt her. I try to get back onto my feet. My right leg doesn't obey. Shit. I grit my teeth. The pain in my leg increases and the pounding tells me my knee starts to swell again. _They're not even your parents._

"Seth!" I shout. Sophie seems to cry louder and louder. I try a new attempt to get up, but my free hands slips under the puddle of milk. Trapped. I feel how my neck and back get splashed with the water in the pot. Not good. It burns awfully and I have to grit my teeth not to cry out the pain. _They're not even your parents._

"Shh…Soph is okay, everything will be okay." I try to sooth her.

"Seth! Come the fuck down and help me!" I have to fight the tears, welling up. I don't know what to do. I can't get up, Sophie is crying like hell. Why doesn't Seth bother this crying? I start a new attempt to get up. I get onto my good knee and in somehow manage to put my whole weight on it and get up. I want to walk towards the crib. Bad mistake. The slightest weight and my bad knee gives way with a stabbing pain. I struggle to hold balance. I slowly limp towards the crib to rescue Sophie. I examine her, but I can't see any obvious injuries. I pray that nothing had happened to her. _They're not even your parents._ Means she's not my sister, so why the hell do I care? I just can't do not care. Shit. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I want to go back to the kitchen and clean up the mess. I only want to cry. My leg hurts and…the skin of my back and neck feels tautened and a stinging pain - like millions of needles - runs through it. No wonder. My t-shirt is soaked with water and the pot I had tried to heat up the milk in is canted over. Not good. I should try to cool the skin. But I have to get Sophie checked up on. I need to clean this mess up. _They're not even your parents_. So, I should leave everything as it is and just piss off. At least this was what Seth had wanted to tell me or? I knew I was nothing but trouble. The pain in my leg increases, and I get hit by a wave of dizziness. I grab a hold on the kitchen counter and then slide down. I can't hold onto me feet any longer. I close my eyes. _They're not even your parents. _This sentence gets louder and louder in my head. The pain in my leg increases. My back is a pounding stinging pain. _They're not even your parents._ My heart clenches. It hurts. It so damn fucking hurts.

"Fuck I know that!" I scream out. I scream out the pain in my leg, the pain in my back and…this sentence.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N.: **Thanks to ParisAmy who seems to make my story so much better and actually readable and understandable =)

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**7.**

"Dad!" I hear my eldest son scream when I enter the door into the house. I'm exhausted. Caleb once a week is already awful, thus I don't need to describe what Caleb twice a week means.

"Dad!" My son screams again. His voice is in panic. I let my coat drop and run towards the direction the voice comes from – the kitchen.

"Seth, what's…" I don't need to ask more. The kitchen looks like a battle field. A huge puddle of water and milk faces me; Sophie's bottle on the floor, the pot turned over. My glance wanders into direction to my eldest son. He kneels next to Ryan, who's slumped down against the kitchen counter, his face grimaced with pain.

"Oh god, what happened?" I asked them both.

"I…dunno, when I came down stairs, Ryan…sat here…I really don't know, you must believe me. If I'd known…" He's close to burst into tears.

"Seth, calm down. It's okay. Nothing is your fault." I put an assuring hand onto his shoulder.

"Sandy, what happened?" My wife asks when she enters the kitchen. I see concern in her eyes. I only shake my head and then go back to my youngest.

"Ryan?" I ask him.

"mmm" I'm glad to hear that he's at least in somehow responsive.

"Shit…Ryan…tell me that you're okay…please Ryan…I swear…I…I didn't mean.…what I said," My son says. I have no clue to what he's talking about.

"Come here sweetie, we're there now. Everything's going to be okay." My wife says and pulls Seth away from Ryan and takes him into her arms.

"Ryan, can you tell me what happened?" I ask him.

"Slipped…just…slipped." He says. I see that he's exhausted. I have no idea how long he's been sitting there.

"Can you get up?" I ask him. I see how he tries. He moves carefully, careful not to put strain onto his right leg and I fear he might have hurt it again.

"Is it your knee?" I ask him. I want to support him and put an arm around his waist, but he pulls it away. In the first moment I'm shocked by this reaction. In the second one I blame his pain and the whole situation for that. In the third I fear he might have taken steps back again, because of some kind of set back.

"I just want to help you, okay." I tell him. Maybe he just doesn't know what's happening.

"Why's your t-shirt wet?" I ask and put a hand onto his back. He winces and I take the hand off again.

"I…I guess…he…might have burnt it…with the water…"Seth stammers. Everything is a chaos.

"Okay, I'll go and get Ryan to the hospital." I say. I still want to help him, but he doesn't allow me. It hurts to see how he even has to struggle to remain onto his feet.

"You'd better…take Sophie…there…I'm…sorry, but…I had her…in my arms…when I slipped…I don't know…whether she's injured." My son manages to say through gritted teeth.

"What!" My wife calls out. There's pure naked panic. She immediately picks up our little daughter out of the crib and examines her for obvious injuries. I can't see anything.

"Sorry." Ryan whispers. I look at him and guilt is written all over his face. I take a deep breath. I need to maintain composure. Oh god. You go out for once and when you come back the whole house is in chaos.

We're on our way to the ER. My wife is fully concentrated on our daughter, rocking her, soothing her.

"It's okay, honey." She sooths her, although Sophie is completely quiet and sucks satisfied on her dummy. Seth is sitting next to Ryan. He's pale and still apologizes to Ryan. I don't know what it is, but I'll ask him later. And Ryan? I have no idea what his behaviour is supposed to mean. Maybe only the shock and pain. Maybe he's concerned about Sophie and feels guilty.

"Really Ryan, you need to believe me…"

"Seth shut up!" Ryan barks. My wife's head snaps back. I can see the fury in her eyes.

"Stop it, both of you. You both were supposed to watch Sophie and I…I…just don't know what I'd do, if something had happened to her. Did you understand me?" She yells at the boys. I can understand her fear. She had wanted a second child – her own child – so badly that she was anxious that someone could take it away from her. On the other hand, I doubt something seriously happened to Sophie, as she was sound asleep in her mother's arms. I look into the rear mirror again. Ryan's head leaning against the window with his face drawn indifferent, and Seth shooting guilty glances at him. I wonder what's behind all this. Did the boys have a fight? But if so, what had it to do with this accident?

"But…Mum…it had been an accident!" Seth calls out. There was definitely something wrong. He never looks like that.

"I don't want to hear any excuses. There are no excuses for…hurting an innocent and defenceless child. I thought I could rely on you and you were responsible, but as I now see I'd been wrong. I'm really, really disappointed – with both of you and…" I put a calming hand onto my wife's leg to stop her. The boys already look flattened.

We reach the hospital. My wife runs into the ER with our Soph. Seth wants to help Ryan, but he doesn't let him. I try my luck, but he's rejecting me as well. Only now I realize that we maybe should have paid attention to his injury and his pain as well, instead of folding him flat in first place. There would have been enough time later. But I can't change what has happened. Ryan slowly limps to the entrance. He's so unsteady on his legs that it seems he might collapse any second, but every time I try to support him he rejects me. Pain is written all over his face, but he doesn't complain – he never would. We enter the ER and I see my wife is already on her way to get Soph checked up by a doctor. I run up to her.

"I wait with the boys, if something happens, let me know." I tell her and kiss her.

"Did you forget that already something has happened?" She's still hysteric. This doesn't suit her. She's never hysteric, never had been and I doubt she ever will.

"I know, but…just…you know." I say. I know every sentence; every word would be wrong and worth it picking up a fight, which I want to avoid.

"Yeah, do what you want…as everybody in this family seems to do." She says and then follows the doctor. Somehow I think this was a little bit unfair. I go back to the boys. Ryan is slumped down in one of the chairs in the waiting room. Well, what does slump down mean? He's shifting around, uncomfortably. I only hope there's nothing serious.

"Are you okay kid?" I ask him. I know this is a stupid question, as he's obviously not okay. But I have to say something. Let him know that there's someone there for him. Shit. This has been too much chaos tonight. Maybe he's mad at us, because we haven't paid attention to him…at least not…the… He's getting paler and paler with every passing minute.

"Ryan, can you at least talk to me and tell me that you listened to me." I ask him. I'm quite upset by his behaviour. It wasn't my fault that he slipped and got hurt.

"mmm" He only answers. At least something. It could be worse.

"Ryan Atwood?" A doctor calls out. I'm glad that eventually someone had found the time to see him, as I drag myself out of my thoughts. I see how he struggles to get up. I walk over to him, supporting him. I feel how the weight on my shoulders gets heavier and heavier.

"Ryan you should…" I have trouble to hold the boy, who is collapsing in front of my eyes. Shit! Why haven't I seen that he's this badly injured? I carefully lower him onto the ground.

"Dad!" My son calls out in panic. I react in a reflex.

"Ryan?" I ask him, but he doesn't answer. I kneel beside him, realizing that he's lying on his back. That isn't good, if your skin is burnt or? I have no clue. I watch people lifting him onto a gurney and then rushing away from me. I'm not allowed to follow them. I remain standing in the middle of the hallway of the hospital. When I realize how long I've been standing there - staring into this one direction - I go to my son and sit down. I rub my face with me hands.

"Do you want to tell me what had happened this evening?" I ask my son. He's pale too and trembling.

"I…dunno…when…when I…came down stairs…Ryan was sitting on the floor and the kitchen was a mess." He answers. I have trouble to believe him. He should have heard at least Ryan's swearing and I assume he had sworn a lot.

"And how does it come that it had been Ryan being in the kitchen with Sophie's milk and not you? I thought your Mom had told you to take care of Sophie." I ask him on. He doesn't look at me. Nice: another one in the family who prefers staring to the floor instead of looking at me.

"Fuck Dad, I know I screwed up this time!" He yells at me and runs out. I want to follow him, but someone needs to wait for Ryan. But Seth is my son too and I need to find out what has been going on. I run after him.

"Seth, wait!" I call after him. I catch with him and stop him. "Seth I only want to know what happened. Nothing else. You know me. I do need to know what caused my whole family being in panic and being hurt, so please don't give me months of sleepless nights." I tell him. He sits down on the kerb and I sit down next to him.

"I…we…we had a fight and…I was pissed and then Sophie started crying and…I'd been too pissed and…Ryan went to her and then…I dunno." I sigh.

"You don't want to tell me what you two had been fighting about?" I ask him. He shakes his head. I only nod.

"You know, if you need to get rid of something, anything you can always come to me." I tell him. He nods. I pad his shoulder.

"Okay, I have to go back and see how your sister and your brother are doing." I say and get up. When I'm back, my wife's already sitting in the waiting area with Sophie in her arms – safe and sound.

"Hey, everything alright with our little sweetheart?" I ask her. I see the relief in her face, but I want to give her the opportunity to say it to me in words.

"Yes, nothing. Not even a bruise. She has had luck. I don't want to imagine what had happened if Ryan had fallen onto her or…"

"Kirsten, this hasn't happened and we both can be sure that Ryan would have rather broken his neck than let something happen to Sophie." I assure her.

"Yes, but don't think I'll forgive the boys for this." She declares. I sigh.

"Kirsten it had been an accident, nobody had acted wilfully. And believe me, Seth feels guilty enough and…how Ryan feels remains to be seen. So, let's just worry about his health first and later we can still…punish their actions. Okay?"

"How's Ryan doing?" She asks me. I could tell her that he had collapsed in the hallway, but I don't do so. She has had enough shock moments this night.

"I don't know." Thus we remain silent and waiting. My eldest son comes back to us. It takes hours.

"Sandy…I…know…I probably should stay, but Sophie needs her sleep." She says. I can understand her.

"It's okay. Seth, you should go home too." I hand him the car keys. He only nods.

"Thanks, bye and call me when you know something." She kisses me and then I'm alone. I have no idea what this night is supposed to mean. I don't know whether I have done everything right or wrong, whether my wife did, nor one of the boys. This night only demonstrates how fragile our family still is.

"Mr. Cohen?" A man comes towards me – a doctor. Finally news about the last member of my family.

"Yes." I get up. "How's my son?" I ask him.

"Well…not good…but he's neither in a critical state." Relief spreads through my body.

"But…he's serverly injured and…"

"What?" I ask. First he tells me that my son isn't in a critical state and now this.

"Starting with his back we're faced with burns first to second degree. Nothing critical, but a lot of pain and discomfort. The second injury is his knee. The x-rays don't look good. The CT scans neither. We contacted…uh…Dr. Conrad the doctor who had been in charge of your son's knee a few months ago. We've sent him the pictures and now we have to wait what he says. But in my opinion this injury will require surgery, but we'll have to wait for Dr. Conrad's opinion." The doctor says. Oh. No. Not again. I don't think the boy can handle another surgery on his knee. The first one had been a fight already.

"Okay, thanks…can I see him?" I ask. I have to warp my head around this news. I don't even want to think about my wife's reaction on this. She's already stressed out. This probably will exceed her limit. On the other hand it had been an awful accident.

"Yes, but he's pretty much out of it, as we have administered strong pain medications to him." The doctor says and then leads me to the room my son lies in.

"Thanks." I say once again and then silently enter the room. The boy is lying on his side, only his legs covered with a blanket. His whole upper body is wrapped in bandages and I fear he might not be able to breathe. When I see the IV line on the back of his hand, I realize how serious his condition must be. I take a deep breath. At least I should remain calm.

"Hey kid." I say. I go over to him and ruffle through his hair. He's really pretty much out of it.

"Everything's going to be okay." I tell him. Well I'm not sure. I'm not sure how much he can bear. I don't know how much my wife can bear. I don't know how much my eldest son can bear. My eldest son. He's already been jealous because we hadn't had enough time for him. This here won't help to sort these issues out. And hell I don't know whether I can bear any more. I want to stroke over his cheek, but he turns is head away.

"Hey, what's that? I thought we were over this." I say.

"Just…leave." He says in a whispering. I feel like I've been hit by truck. What was that? This doesn't mean that…or? It's the medication, right?

"Are you okay kid?" I ask him. I want to make sure that he didn't mean what he had said; that he doesn't know what's happening; that he's awfully out of it, not knowing what he's saying.

"Just…leave." He whispers once again. Okay, he seems to know what he's saying.

"Are you sure that this is what you want?" I ask him once again. Maybe he wants to tell me something else, but just can't right now.

"Yes." He says. He doesn't look at me. I look at him. His face is blank and indifferent.

"Ryan, I don't think I like this…and…I don't think I like that facial expression of yours." I say. I don't get a response. I want to impose my presence to him, but he isn't aware of me. Well, he pretty much ignores me. I sigh. I won't get through to him today and I'm still convinced that this is all linked to the medication he's on.

When I'm home I meet my wife drinking tea in the kitchen.

"Hey honey." I greet her and give her a kiss. Her face is plastered with exhaustion. "How's our little daughter?" I ask her. I know she won't forgive me if I hadn't asked this before starting with the quite bad news.

"Safe and sound. She's sleeping. I've only been waiting for you. What took you so long and…where's Ryan?" She asks. Sometimes I only want to scream at her. She'd seen that Ryan had been in a bad condition when we had brought him in. She had seen that he'd been in a lot of pain. Why does she ask this question?

"Still in hospital and as it seems he'll have to stay there for a while." I only answer calmly, trying to hide my anger about her reaction.

"What?" She's upset. But why? Shouldn't she be more concerned? I mean at least he's her son too. And yes I'm afraid of her reaction. She'd completely forgotten about him in this situation and I don't know whether this is a normal reaction, because Soph is our little baby; or whether she realised in such situations who her own child is and who's not. I don't want imply she's doing it wilfully, but I'm afraid of it.

"I already booked our trip to Föhr." This is the last straw. I can't understand how she can think about holidays right now, while one of our sons is in hospital.

"Damn it Kirsten! How can you think about this right now? Ryan's seriously injured again. His back is completely burnt - even second degree and…his knee might require surgery again. Don't you think this is enough reason to start to worry?" I ask her. I've raised my voice.

"What? Don't tell me…Sandy, I can't do this again…it's…"

"Stop it! We have to. We agreed to be his parents and there's no way out just because we've been blessed with a second child of our own." I just have my doubts that it's my wife I'm talking to right now. I don't want to believe that she believes what she's telling me right now.

"And we're fighting again because of him!" She puts her mug onto the kitchen counter with a slam.

"What do you want to tell me through this?" I ask her.

"That…that…I dunno. I'm overtaxed with all of this. I just want that this stops!" She screams at me.

"But you can't stop being a parent. This is our job and we have chosen it! You can't switch on being a parent when it's nice to be one, and switch it off when's getting complicated!" I scream back. It feels as if we're back where we started.

"And what have been the last six months?"

"Kirsten, when will you stop with that? I know the last six months had been a tough fight, but we had known from the very beginning that it won't be easy. We should stop complain about our decision, or don't you think the boy notices that something's bothering us regarding this topic?" I throw at her. I can't stand this anymore.

"But…"

"Nothing but and I would appreciate it, if you could hide your…fury about this towards the boy. I don't want him noticing any of it. It's not his fault."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N.:** Thanks for reading and reviewing this story and again thanks to my beta, who hopefully has all success she needs for her revision.

I know I'm not a native-speaker, and even though my stay in England didn't make me a good English-speaker, it made me at least a decent one. I hope that all mother-tongue speaker reading this don't feel offended by me using their language for my stories. I don't intend to disregard your language in anyway, as certain other authors do by posting offending works around here, and posting statements which are at the borderline of legality (referring to the European Audio Visual Media Directive Art. 3b prohibiting the display of hatred. I know that this use of the internet doesn't fit under the definition of Art.1a, but regarding the purpose of this Directive and the principle of consistency one can draw a legally analogy).

Enough of complainig. I hope you enjoy this story =)

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The next morning we head back to the hospital. I'm reluctant to leave my baby alone with my son after last night's events, but I have no other choice. Worst of all, it seems to be unnecessarily serious as the doctor who had operated on Ryan's knee the first time, is on his way to Newport once again. I don't know what to feel or think about all this. Of course I'm worried and concerned about him and I feel really sorry. But on the other hand, I can't forget that he had endangered my daughter, although I had told him not to do anything and leave the job with Seth. I'm furious about this, as Sophie is too young and helpless. If one of the boys gets hurt it's bad, but if she gets hurt it can have…worse effect than on the boys. Besides I still don't get why Ryan had been in the kitchen. I'm just tired of hospitals and fights and I thought the vacation would do us good. But now I can go back to the travel shop and cancel everything. Yes, I am angry about this, I'd really been looking forward this trip.

We enter the room Ryan's in. He looks miserable. But right now I can't convince myself to mother him, like I'm supposed to do. I still hadn't been able to sort my emotions out. So, I don't notice that he's trying to ignore us. For me it's quite fine though.

"Hey kid, how are you?" My husband asks. I can't even ask him this question. I'm just tired of all of this. I can't take it anymore and I don't want to. The boy only shrugs his shoulders. At least a sign he feels guilty enough. My husband shoots upset glances at me, as I remain in the door frame, while he gets to the bed. I reluctantly follow him. We get wrapped up in a heavy silence. Nobody wants to say something. I guess it's my turn then.

"You know you've had luck, as Sophie isn't seriously hurt." I start to tell him. Only because he's injured doesn't mean he's off the hook.

"She's not hurt at all." My husband adds.

"I don't get why you had been in the kitchen with Sophie. I mean you shouldn't have been in first place and…I mean…it's a well known fact that it's dangerous for a baby when you work in the kitchen with a baby in your arm." I lecture him. I'm afraid of something like this might happen again. Unfortunately I can't retreat from all my social duties, what means one day I'll have to leave Sophie alone with the boys again, and I want to make sure that yesterday's event was an exception.

"Ryan, can you tell me what had made Seth that angry that he didn't want to help you?" My husband asks, but we don't receive an answer as a knock on the door disturbs us. It's Dr. Conrad again, what means it really must be serious.

"Good morning, Mrs. and Mr. Cohen, Ryan." He says and then enters the room.

"I thought I had told you that I don't want to see you again, before we're able to remove the metal plates and screws out of your leg." He says. I think this is very unnecessary.

"Well, okay. It had been an accident and now we have to see how to repair the damage again. I had a look on the x-rays and the CT scans and…I'm sorry to say, but you'll need surgery. There's no other way. See here," The doctor holds an x-ray against the light, to make the bone visible to us and then points at some place "your knee is displaced again. Not as bad as being dislocated, but bad enough to damage some other tissue surrounding the joint." Very well done. Again weeks of hospital and physical therapy and I had hoped it was an end in sight.

"The other bad news is you will lose the ability to bend your knee over forty-degree, maybe a little more, but not much. If you have luck it'll be enough to make you able to walk normal." He says and this is the last straw.

"Great, really great." I only can say. I'm so angry about this. I can't even express how angry I am. This wasn't supposed to happen. Why us again? Why Ryan again? Weren't there any other families? I get up and leave the room, not paying attention to the boy, who might have taken the news harder than I did.

"Kirsten?" My husband follows me. I don't want him to follow me. I want to have my peace. I want to be alone with my anger and my fury.

"What?" I sound irritated. I never do, but now I do and I can't change it and I don't want to change it.

"Your outburst right now. I think you should explain it to the boy, because I don't think this is what he needs right now." His voice is clam and steady. But exactly this is what's boiling my anger even more.

"Sandy, this isn't an outburst. I can't bottle up everything like others in our family use to do." I answer honestly.

"You remember what I told you last night?" He asks me. I don't answer because I don't understand his question.

"I want to know whether you remember what I told you last night?" He asks again, but this time his voice is steely.

"I told you not to let the boy know about what you're thinking right now and this had been enough to show him that…you're upset about everything." He says.

"Sorry, but I'm also only a human being."

"And our boys too and they're much younger and inexperienced. You shouldn't blame them for what had happened, at least not in the way you're doing. Did you see Seth this morning? No, you didn't. Why? Because you made him feel that badly guilty that he doesn't even dare to talk to me about what had happened the last night, not even dares to enter the kitchen. And did you pay attention to Ryan's reaction? No? You couldn't, because there was none, which means that we're back where we started months ago. All because of your behaviour last night we have two completely devastated teenagers at home and all this…because of nothing." He says. I don't know what to answer to that. I don't know why he's reacting like that. I don't know why he's in such a rage, and I don't realise that my behaviour last night had hurt the boys that bad. I didn't intend to hurt any of them. They only needed to know what they had done had been dangerous and wrong. They need to know that I have my reasons when I share the duties among them. And I thought I explained it to…one moment please this only explains Seth…

"Sandy, when Ryan is rejecting us it has nothing to do with the last night's event, but…with…well… I had a fight with Seth about who is in duty for Sophie and…he expressed his anger about us only paying attention to Ryan and …Ryan had been in the same room with us then. I…" Oh. My. God. Just now it occurs to me what I had done in that night. I shouldn't have had this discussion in front of the boy. He wasn't supposed to know that. No wonder that he's feeling uncomfortable around us once again.

"Great. That's really great, regarding that we were doing a lot of steps forward with the boy. Hell, Kirsten he'd just started to trust us and open up to us…this…"

"I know Sandy…I'm sorry." I apologize.

"And then…last night…only hope he's only under a lot of medication; and let's hope that he's settled enough with us to know that things aren't always meant as they're said, because otherwise we have a lot more reasons to worry." He says. There's nothing left for me to say. I go back home. I can't go back to my son right now. Not yet. It need to wrap my mind around what had happened and whether it really had been such a big deal as my husband wants to make me believe. And I need to take care of Sophie. I don't want to let her alone for too long.

I'm drowned in my work. I started working at home. I can't go to the office as Sophie needs me around – and as I can't trust my boys in this, I have no other chance than working at home. The sound of the doorbell drags me out of my thoughts. I get up. I open the door and yes the person I'm staring face to face with is the last one I had expected.

"Uh Neil…What…are you doing here?" I ask. I'm astonished seeing him here. I hadn't expected a visit. He never had visited us within the whole time Ryan was living with us. Why now?

"I just wanted to talk to you and your husband." He answers. I have no idea how to react, but he's there in front of my door, which means this can't be something good about.

"Uh…my husband isn't there at the moment, but I can call him and he'll be here in about twenty minutes. Do…you want to wait here?" I ask him. He nods. I make space thus he can enter the house.

I call my husband. He sighs. He knows that this isn't good. What have we done wrong? Was there something we hadn't thought of? It takes less than twenty minutes for my husband to come home. I don't want to know how fast he had been on his way back.

"Neil, what's leading you to us?" He greets us, when he enters the house.

"Well…I don't want to …no, let me start in another way. I got a call from Ryan and…he asked me, whether it was possible to…sorry to say that … annul the adoption and…now…"

"He did what!" My husband nearly screamed hysterically. I'm flustered by that. My mind is blank and my emotions a chaos.

"He said something about too many differences, too many problems. He said this doesn't work out and…well I'm here to check out whether this is the truth or not." He explains us. I feel the angry glances my husband shoots at me without seeing them. Yes, I start to feel a little bit guilty. Then the baby phone screams.

"Sorry." I say and leave for the bed room upstairs. There couldn't be a worse moment than this one, but I can't keep her screaming. She's my little baby and she needs me. She needs my protection.

"Hey baby." I say and lean over the crib. "You know it's time for lunch, right?" I tell her. I don't need to look onto the watch to know how late it is, as this is the usual time for Sophie to cry after her bottle. I carefully take her into my arms and carry her down stairs. I notice how difficult it is to do so, with a baby in your arms and how was I supposed to allow Ryan to do so? His knee wasn't stable enough as if I should have allowed him this. This already had been risky. But hell, he knew about his knee. He should have known that this was dangerous. I go back and heat the bottle with milk, while rocking my baby.

"Shh, it's okay honey." I sooth her.´

"Oh…that's the little sister, I assume." Neil says. I only hope this isn't a reason to take the boy away from us. On the other hand, adopting a teenager doesn't forbid you having own children or?

"Yes." My husband answers. His gestures tell me that he's fraught.

"How…does Ryan cope with the situation? I mean it's not rare that adopted kids have problems dealing with the fact that their adoptive parents are having their own child." He says.

"Well…we knew that this wouldn't be easy for him…but…I don't know…he seems to be comfortable about this situation. He never gave us reason to be concerned he might not be." My husband explains.

"Yeah…but we're talking about Ryan, though he's not the type to carry his emotions and thoughts on the surface." Well, this didn't go well then.

"Yes, but…whenever we need someone taking care of her, he's there. He seems to like being the big brother for her." I answer quickly to rescue the situation.

"I can imagine that." Neil replies. How will he be able to imagine that? He never came by. He never seemed to really care about Ryan. Only now where the boy has had some stupid idea on his mind he appears on my front door and tries to find anything to make us look like the worst parents in the world. Hell, he doesn't even know what we went through with Ryan after the accident and even before that. Why does he care now?

"Do you have an explanation for why he might want to annul the adoption?" He wants to know. Of course he wants to know that. Of course he wants to know that we've done something wrong so he can prove that we're not able to cope with the boy, and that we'd been mistaken from the very beginning. He'd never wanted us to be Ryan's parents. He hates us and now he has the opportunity to prove to the world that he had been right about us. My husband looks summoning at me.

"Last evening…I have had a fight with my son and…it had been about that we might spend a little more time with Ryan, than with him. After the car accident and some other occasions, there has just been a lot for us to deal with, and we wanted to make sure Ryan deals with it properly." I started to explain.

"And Ryan…listened to that." Neil concluded.

"Unfortunately he did." I admit. Please don't let him take him away from us. This wouldn't be fair. Yes, we have made a mistake, but I don't want to lose the boy due to this. I mean, adoption doesn't mean not making any mistakes, right? Nobody had told us we need to be perfect for being Ryan's parents; and it would be unfair to say so, as nobody wants you to be perfect for being a parent of your own children.

"Okay, this is not good, but explains something and why exactly is he in hospital again?" He asks.

"We had been out and the boys were supposed to look after Sophie, but…it had been a typical kitchen accident, but unfortunately Ryan's knee is still too instable and got injured again and he needs to undergo surgery once again." I think it's really mean that my husband leaves me alone with all these explanations. He's the one out of us who knows how to talk, so he should be the one explaining what had happened, not me.

"I want to be honest. After all your efforts you burdened yourself with for keeping Ryan, I can't imagine that there is a real reason for me to annul the adoption, but I have to check on it. I can't leave Ryan's request unnoticed." He answers. I feel relive as this shows me that there might be a chance for us keeping the boy.

"And what…do you do know?" I ask him.

"Well, I would like to send a colleague of mine to the hospital to check on his…psychological well being. I want for all of you to know that we can sort this out, and maybe it is just another sore point that comes up now. I don't expect anything serious." He says. Alright. This can be a tough trip then.

"Okay, thank you." My husband says, gets up and guides Neil out. My husband comes back and his facial expression doesn't say something good.

"Are you happy now?" He bites me. This again, is not fair. I hadn't known that Ryan's still questioning his position in this family, although I should've known as it is Ryan, and Ryan never takes anything as granted. He's always too preoccupied with that someone might take the good things that happen to him away again.

"Sandy, if I'd known that this would happen, I…I don't know. As you said that yesterday night had been an accident, I say that this fight had been one too." I justify myself.

"Maybe, but the boys are young and do a lot of stupid things, because they don't know it any better. You're the adult here. You're supposed to act like a parent, so you need to be aware of such things."

"Why in hell's name am I not allowed making mistakes too? Or did you forget the little tension between you and him before and after the accident, only because you lost patience too often with him?" I now yell again.

"And you reproached me often enough for that." He now screams back too.

"Yes I did, but…" We get disturbed by a shattering noise. We turn around to see what had caused this noise to see our son standing in the kitchen. Great. Just great. Now he has witnessed us fighting once again about Ryan and we can listen to some more insults from his front.

"Seth…" I say, he's already on his way back. "No Seth, stay…you…let us explain okay? Give us a chance to tell you…"

"That we're all on the edge with our nerves, and now in somehow need to sort things out." My husband steps in. My son remains and comes back to us.

"May I ask what this is about? Is this only about Ryan or about the accident last night, which really had been less Ryan's fault than mine, as I've been the one you told to take care of Soph." He says.

"Right now, we both don't know about what all this is. I only know that we all need some time for us…only the five of us to become a family again. I…think that this is …"

"Such a new situation we're faced with – I mean Ryan and Sophie – that we all need some time to adjust to it." I help my husband out. "That's why I had planed our vacations."

"What probably won't happen, as Ryan will need surgery again." My son says and I hear the sadness about it in his voice.

"We don't know yet. The doctor said that he would operate on his knee this afternoon, and that this is not such a huge thing as the last surgery, mostly because the damage is irreversible." My husband adds.

"And why is nobody there for him?" I ask him now.

"Because you went off and he sent me away and I hadn't had the strength to fight about this." My husband answers.

"Which means Ryan is back in his: I don't let anyone through to me mode." My son concludes. His tone reflects disapproval. He doesn't understand. He wants his family back as much as I want it back. We both have only different ways to ward off our anger.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N.:** A very big thanks to my Beta and also a big thanks for the reviews. I hope you like this one =)

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**9.**

Shit. I'm such a fucking idiot. I'm well aware that I'm a reason for Ryan's strange behaviour now. I know that. Shit. But I can't tell my parents. They would kill me. They'll lynch me if I tell him. No, I can't. But in somehow it is my fault too and I have to do something to fix this. But how to fix Ryan? Not even a therapist and happy pills had been able to fix him, so why should I be able to do so? I don't think he even wants to talk to me. So, what other ways do I know to fix things? I don't know any, because it's never me who's screwing things up. It's usually the others screwing up with me. Okay, my parents screwed up with me. After Sophie was born there was no space for me left, right? I don't know. I need to do something. I don't want to have to live with the feeling that Ryan is gone only because of me. I don't want to be reason for someone leaving. I was never the reason for someone doing so and I don't plan to be. I hear my Mom coming upstairs. How I know it's my Mom? It's because of the way she's coming upstairs. I can distinguish the rhythm and the sound from my parents' steps. It's weird. I hear she's going into the bedroom. I get up and join her. I need to talk to her about anything.

"Hey Seth, what's wrong?" She asks me. It's awful. You usually can see that something is on my mind. I don't like it, but my Mom can read me anyway, no matter how hard I try to hide something from her, it's always her finding out that something is bothering me.

"I don't know. I think it's the whole situation." I answer and sit down on the side of her bed, watching her how she picks up Sophie and carries her into the bathroom. Soph is really cute. She's really a nice girl and I'm glad having her as my little sister. I hated to be an only child, but now I have two siblings. I should be happy and grateful about that. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but I haven't lost the feeling as if I was forgotten somewhere on the way, and still nobody had made the effort to pick me up – as if they don't miss me. I watch her and in somehow I feel this strange urge.

"May…may I?" I ask my Mom. She looks astonished at me. Of course, because changing nappies isn't what I do. I don't do nappies.

"Of course." She says and let me step to the table where my little sister with her big blue eyes lies and giggles. I'm sure she'll be a beauty like me Mom when she's older, and I'm sure that I won't allow her to date until she's…forty or something. I won't let her down. She's my little sister.

"Wait, I'll help you." My Mom says, gently takes my hand into hers and then guides me through the whole nappy procedure. It doesn't take long for us to change the nappy, and it isn't as bad as I thought it was. Well, it's not going to be my favourite job, but I can manage. I look at my Mom.

"Take her." She says in her calm and soft voice she uses when she thinks she needs to soothe me. I take her. She weights nothing. I feel her warm and soft skin on my arm. Her calm and steady breathing is calming in somehow. My Mom and I sit down on her bed, and she puts and arm around my waist and pulls me a little closer to her.

"You know that we've never intended to forget you and if we did, I'm really sorry. But you're still our son and you will always be. I'm sorry that it's been such a rough time for all of us lately." She says. I don't know why she starts with it, but I start to feel bad. In somehow I don't want them to have a bad conscience only because they had cared for Ryan or Soph.

"I know." I tell her. I don't want her to feel bad.

"Yes, but in somehow you're right. We should've…got you more involved in everything, especially in Sophie's birth. I guess we should've made you more part of it." She says. I don't know. Maybe she's right. Maybe she's not. I only now know that it feels good to be that close to my Mom again. She rubs my back and pecks the top of my head. I so badly feel the urge to tell her, but I can't. I don't want to destroy this moment.

"I think Sophie wants to get back to sleep." She says and I carry her to bed and tuck her in. My Mom puts the little pink soft-cat into her arms.

"Do you still have your Mr. Bananas?" My Mom asks me.

"Of course. I will never abandon Mr. Bananas. Mom how can you say that?" I can't believe that she's really thinking I can give this soft-toy away. It had been my first soft-toy – my first toy at all. I know this toy doesn't play a huge role in my life. But I can't imagine giving him away any less than even captain Oats.

"I know when your Dad and I bought it. I wanted something that can protect you and what might reflect your personality. I think the monkey was a good pick. You're cheeky and vivid and you like to me around your family. You're social and open to other things and people; and you're intelligent. Yes, you're quite a monkey." She says and pulls me even tighter at her.

"How did you know this would suit me?" I ask her. I don't want her to stop talking to me in these ensuring words.

"I just knew it." She says. She looks at me. "I had a rabbit." She says.

"Well, you're fast and you have this little nose and you're smart. You always find a way out and know how to get what you want." I tell her. She's smiling. I don't know why I said this. I just had to.

"Does Dad have a soft-toy, too?" I ask her. I want her to tell me more about their past. It's as if this brings us closer together.

"Of course. He has an owl. You know, maybe he'll become wise one day." She says jokingly and I know how this is meant.

"Does Ryan have a soft-toy?" She asks me. What kind of question was that? As if Ryan would do soft-toys.

"No. Ryan doesn't do soft-toys and you know that." I tell her.

"Would you think he'd like one?" She asks me.

"I've really no idea." I say and again I feel bad. I know the pool house upside down and I've never found something that could remind someone of Ryan's childhood. He hasn't even a soft-toy. Hell, how can someone not have a soft-toy – not even the one you get to your birth? Ryan had nothing. He doesn't even own any pictures from his family. He owns nothing reminding him from his time with them. He doesn't even own a soft-toy. He had nothing.

"But I think he should have one." I answer. As if I can make what had happened to him and between us undone; but I want him to have a soft-toy. We all have one. Even Soph. He needs one too.

"Then let's go and find one." My Mom says.

"And Soph?"

"Your Dad is here." She says and then we both head to the car.

"What kind of animal does he like?" She asks me. I have so no clue. Does he like animals at all?

"Sorry Mom, I don't know. This is not what we use to talk about." I answer. But maybe when I had talked to him lately, I would know now. And I see the importance in this. Ryan really needs a soft-toy. Everybody needs one. It's just something you think of it can protect you, not matter how old you are and you always can rely on it and tell it everything. Ryan has nothing like that and if someone is in the need for it, then it's Ryan.

"Do you know, whether he ever had a pet or had wanted one?" My Mom keeps on.

"Mom, I'm sorry, but I really don't know." I tell her. I try to think about something. I can't believe I hadn't asked Ryan about this. I'm sure I must have, because this topic usually is the first one on my list. Oh my God. I don't even remember this. This is it. I don't remember what he had told me.

"Maybe a dog? Everybody wants a dog." I suggest.

"Well, I don't think Ryan's the person for a dog." My Mom answers and in somehow she's right. Ryan's not the person for a dog at all.

"What about a Labrador? They're as quiet and strong and loyal as Ryan is." I say and I mean it – I really mean it and I could kick my ass for what I've said to him.

"Maybe, but no." She says. "It's awful. If he was my son, wasn't I supposed to know what kind of animal suits him?" She asks me. I know this question. Since Ryan's in hospital I ask myself, whether I'm a brother for him. Had a brother said something like that? Wait!

"Wait…I…I remember something. Once, when Ryan asked me why I am talking to captain Oats I asked him, whether he never talked and sought for comfort in an a toy and…he told me…no…that…he never possessed any toy, but that he once possessed a monkey his father had gave him and…I don't know he was young and…his mom's boyfriend had ripped it up and…he had been very sad and…all about it…and when he started crying…well, crying never had been something good at his home. You know…made everything worse." I'm glad I hadn't forgotten about this. I'm sure I only suppressed it.

"A monkey? Are you sure? I…I mean Ryan's so not a monkey…he's too quiet and not even cheeky." My Mum doubts me.

"Yes, but since then he never has had another soft-toy." I explain her.

"Probably, because this has been a gift from his Dad." That might be.

"Yes…but no…I'm sure he…had said something…but I don't know…I guess his brother than got something…a lion or a tiger or something too and it's had a special meaning for them." Shit. Why can't I remember the whole story? Probably, because he hadn't told me the whole story.

"A monkey then?" My Mom looks questioning at me.

"Trust me."

"But a nice one." She says. I'm glad I could help her with this, although I know this could never make undo what I said to him. I'm sure he'll never talk to me anytime soon. But I also know that he doesn't even talk to my parents and that's not fair, because they haven't done anything – well okay Mom had folded him flat for something…that wasn't his entire fault. Maybe I should've stepped in earlier, but I'd been too much in a shock, as if I'd been able to say something.

Shit. I don't know, I really don't know how to undo what I've said and I'll never forget his glance and I never will forget what I've done. I should've heard that he'd needed me. Hell, Ryan had been calling for help. He never does so. What means, he had needed my help then. He had trusted me and thought I would come. But I didn't. I had only confirmed his feeling that I'm not his brother. He – of course – thinks that I hate him. I left him no other chance than doing so. He'll hate me for the rest of his life; and no, I don't want him to annul the adoption. I don't want him to leave this family. If I hadn't wanted him being part of it, I'd never suggested his adoption, and I'd never allowed my parents to take him in. They had always asked my about everything, and I've always said and I always have meant the 'yes' that I gave my parents. I can't have changed that much. I'm reluctant to believe so.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N.: **Thank you, my lovely Beta reader and thanks for the reviews

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**10.**

He had rejected me. He had wanted me to leave, but this time it doesn't impress me. I can understand when he's hurt by my wife's behaviour, and listening to a fight about him wasn't the best experience for him; but I won't give him the chance to retreat. Not this time. I'm sitting in the waiting area and I ask why I'm alone? Where's my wife? Isn't she supposed to be here too? I know it's only a minor surgery, but I'm still afraid that something might happen. The boy had looked awfully devastated about the fact that he had to undergo surgery once again. It seems as if he'd given up some kind of hope – all hope, if he ever had any. Right now I realise that something had pulled his trigger, and now we're back to where we'd been before six months ago. What had it been? Marissa's take off? My wife's outburst yesterday? Her fight with our son? Had he recognised that Seth is somehow jealous? I have no clue, but something had thrown him for a loop and we sit in front of the results. I thought that this vacation idea was good too, but in Ryan's current state this is no good idea. I sit and wait. Where's my wife? I sometimes fear she might have lost an interest in our second son. I can't believe that, but sometimes it looks like that. She hadn't shown any concern about the boy since last night, and she just took it that his surgery was now. She's supposed to be here, but she isn't. Where the hell is she? I told her the hour. She should've found the time to come here. Oh…no, Soph. I forgot. I'm sure since last night she'll never ever allow someone else having an eye on our little daughter. But the boy? Our family life is one chaos and I regret that we can't take the chance of a family vacation, but I can't do this to the boy. Not after surgery, not with an injured knee and not with a burnt back. Hell, how am I – or we, if my wife starts to act normal again – to make him accept that he won't recover anymore? It's impossible, right. You can't tell him that his knee will never be what it once was. Being able to walk when he has luck. Luck. What does luck mean regarding him? He never seems to have luck – at least not the same amount other people seem to have. Dude, this boy has hit it hard, really hard. I sigh and go on waiting. I have a look onto the clock, but the time doesn't seem to move any further. I'm waiting for the surgery to end and for my wife to appear somewhere here. It's a mother's duty to be present in such a situation. I'm clueless and at my wits' end. I only hope she'll be there. I sit down. I take a magazine, but I can't concentrate on it and thus put it away again. I'm restless. I have to be. It's one of my kids', who's behind these mysterious doors. I fulfil my fatherly duties of worry and concern. I can't be blamed.

"Hey honey, sorry for being late." For God's sake. Thanks to whomever , who made her understand the seriousness of this situation, and made this beautiful head functioning motherly again. She storms towards me and kisses me.

"Did you find someone for Sophie?" I ask her.

"Seth said he wanted to give it a second try. He seems to suffer from a serious case of bad conscience after last night's incidents." She answers and sits down.

"Well, we're not over with the consequences yet." I tell her. The nagging bad conscience is written all over her face. It causes a strange sensation of relieve to know that my wife still has some empathy left.

"I didn't mean to freak out like that. I…just…I dunno. It's like our family is falling apart and I'm awfully afraid of this to happen after all we invested to make things work out." She says. We'd known that it would become more difficult to be a family when Sophie was there. It was a new situation for all of us. Seth has had a real sister and had to share the attention with a baby that will claim most of it for the next few years. Ryan has to overcome his fears that we might start to be bothered by him, now where we have a second own biological child. And Kirsten and I have to juggle everything and right now it feels like we haven't done a good job.

"What's that?" I ask her and point at the soft-toy – a monkey – in her lap.

"Uh…this…is a long story…Seth and I recognised that…well Ryan hasn't got any soft-toy and you know Soph and Seth both have gotten one to their birth…you know to protect them and so on and I just thought…Ryan needs one too." She says. I look at her. I'm puzzled by this idea of her's. I doubt that this is what the boy needs right now and I also doubt that the boy is all for something like that. A soft-toy. As if a soft-toy could solve the problems we're faced with again. As if a soft-toy could make the visit from the social worker undone. As if a soft-toy could make Ryan aware of his place in our family. As if a soft-toy could express a 'sorry' or a feeling. A soft-toy and into the bargain a monkey. I'd like to have an insight into the mental process of my wife.

"What's up your mind?" My wife asks me. I study her face to know, whether I can risk telling her the truth. I have to.

"I think it's a really nice idea, but right now…a little out of place or did you forget that he has called his social worker to annul the adoption?" I ask her. This fact won't evaporate like bloing water. It had happened and now stands betweem us like a he elephant.

"No…and…I just…Sandy do you know how bad it hurts, seeing how we raise Soph, how she'll grow up and that we would do everything for her and in the same time having a kid – you love the same as your own, because you consider him as yours – that never will make the same experiences, that never will have his parents around anymore? Do you know how hard it is to know that Ryan has to watch what he never had and never will get?" She asks me. Only now I realise that there is a fear inside of us too. A fear we can't get rid of, because we can't prevent Ryan from watching this. I don't want to be in his place right now. It's the fear that you expose your child to some kind of painful experience, an experience that offers you the greatest joy and the biggest fear at once.

"But we have to deal with it right now. We can't close the eyes from this." I only say.

"Sandy, I don't close my eyes, I only do…what I think can…help him and us…and I…don't know, maybe it had been a stupid idea." She says and wants to leave. I grab her arm.

"No…I'm sorry. It probably won't help us…to sort things out…but maybe we can give him something from his childhood back." I say and I wish it could help. At least it can show that we're there for him and that we never would neglect him, only because we have a new family member now. Maybe he realises how hard this is for us as well.

"Is this what you think or did you only tell me this to calm me down?" She asks me.

"I mean it, but I can't forget the feeling…the fear in my spine when Neil stood in front of our door and said that Ryan wanted to annul the adoption. I…just can't. I ask myself what we've done wrong to make him feel like that – that we would let him go like that." I admit. I can't think of what reasons the boy has to make us annul the adoption.

"I have no idea, but I guess that Ryan isn't stable enough yet, you understand? He still struggles to settle with us, although he tries to proof us different." My wife says. This might be it. He's still too shy around us. He still behaves like a guest from time to time. Well, maybe he doesn't know that nobody will take this away from him. How should he know? His family had been taken from him in a violent way. He never can be sure that something like that might not happen to us too, although I really doubt that. He's too afraid to lose us, as if he could be free enough to open up to us. His fears are blocking him.

My wife and I stay silent and wait. I hate waiting. I can't stand it. I notice that the doctors exceed the previously set time limit for this surgery. They had said two hours maximum, probably less. Now it is two and a half. I have a strange feeling in my guts. I don't want to go through the hell from the last six months again. I can't bear it once again. This had been too hard. But hell, we pay for a therapist and…pump our boy full with medication and nothing? There's no success? That can't be right. I mean Ryan can't be that resistant to any kind of psychological measure. There must be something that's able to help him. But what? I'm at my wits' end again. Once again I feel helpless towards the boy. We can't handle him. Or can we and just are blind? I have doubts that this is all linked to the birth if Soph. He'd been so eager to be able to take care of her. It's intimidating, realising how much in the know of how to take care of a baby he is. I have the feeling as if this should tell me something, but what? I have the feeling as if I missed something about him – something important.

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me for my behaviour?" My wife breaks the silence. Her glance wanders to the clock and back and again.

"We need to be patient with him once again. Maybe we've missed something about him, something that had gone on and we just haven't seen. I don't know, but I doubt your outburst is the only reason for this. Maybe it had pulled the trigger, but nothing more. You know, the straw that broke the camel's back."

"He isn't dumb. He probably recognised that something was wrong – is wrong – with Seth and you know he's always blaming himself for everything."

"Then we need to make clear to him that not everything is his fault. He needs to know that parents aren't almighty and make mistakes as well."

"And that he's not the reason for the mistakes and that we don't intend to hurt him or Seth or Soph." My wife says. Afterwards we again fall into silence. It takes an eternity for a doctor to come to us.

"Mr and Mrs Cohen?" Dr Conrad finally comes to us and relief spreads through my body. My wife and I get up.

"The surgery is done. I've been able to repair the damage, but unfortunately…the damage been done to his knee is irreversible. Ryan will have to accept the restrictions in his leg. I already explained you what this means. So…it's most important to help Ryan deal with this." He says. How to make a boy like Ryan deal with all the bad luck occurring in his life?

"But what took you so long?" I ask.

"Well…your son has had some kind of reaction to the anaesthesia. It seemed as if he suffers from some kind of intolerance. But nothing to worry about. He's stable now and I would recommend letting him stay this night, and tomorrow you can take him home. There's nothing we can do and…the burns on his back will heal fine and won't require any special medical treatment you can't provide at home either." He says.

"Excuse me if I ask this…but…we were planning to go on vacation on Friday. Will this be possible?" My wife asks the doctor. I'm flabbergasted that she has the nerve to ask this question. This is out of place right now. This here is about our son, and not about some vacation plans.

"I don't know…where do you plan to go?" The doctor asks us, quite astonished. He must feel like in a twilight zone after this question. No questions about the boy's health or after care, but vacation. My wife presents herself like the ideal Newpsie by misplacing her priorities that obvious.

"Föhr…an island at the German and Danish coast." I explain him.

"Oh…yeah…I have a good friend, he's working as a doctor there. I can send him the details and…your son will be able to receive the correct treatment in case of an emergency and you'll have a contact person. I think the salty air will do his health a lot good. It'll help him to recover and get rid of all germs still resting in his body." The doctor says. Well, I hadn't counted on this answer. Maybe we should also consider the journey? I mean this will strain him more than necessary, but the doctor would have said something then, as he knows about what distance we're talking about.

"What do you mean?" My wife asks.

"Usually after…accidents…with such an impact to the body like the one your son suffered from also have an undeniable impact on the immune system as well – weakening it. I'm sure your son has had several flu and colds and the air on the sea will help him to boost his immune system. I'm only afraid of the long journey, but I'll give you several prescriptions that should help him anyway so…you can…just don't overdo it. No swimming, no sand. That's all I can say. Just take care." The doctor says and then we're allowed to see our son. We're complaining about the hard times we have, especially regarding the boy and now my wife thinks we can handle such a trip with him in his current physical state? Is she nuts? She must have lost all of her common sense. Every parent would avoid everything that could put unnecessary strain on their kid after a surgery, but my wife? She seems to be seeking the risk and trouble. I turn off these thoughts when I cast a look over to the pale form in the bed in front of me. This sight makes my stomach sink and I'm reluctant to force him onto this trip. Not like this.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews and for the beta job =)

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**11.**

Our son is lying on his side. He's pale and shivering again. He looks sick. I don't know how to react. Usually I would have no concerns about going over to him and start hovering, but it feels strange now. I know what my husband had said was right somehow. My husband is the first by his side – of course, as he had been the one caring about him in…well, the first place.

"Hey kid." He says in a calm and low voice. He strokes through our sons hair and I can see how he tries to get rid of this physical contact.

"…Mmm." Is the only answer we're getting. He sounds dazed. No wonder.

"Not feeling so good, huh?" My husband says and sits down on the edge of the bed. He looks at me and I know I have to do something. I step closer to him.

"Hey sweetie." I say and stroke over his cheek. There are slight traces from all the cuts in his face he suffered from due to the accident; but you aren't aware of them, if you don't know that there had been these cuts.

"The doctor said you can go home tomorrow." I tell him. I don't know why, but I'm afraid of the physical contact. He starts too retreat, I can see it. I don't have the courage to stop him from that, but I have to. I'm his mother. I have to be there for him and I have to love him. But after last night – my outburst – I'm not so sure. The thought that he is the cause for unbearable problems increases. No, I have to overcome this. I'm his mother and I'm supposed to stay above such things. I go to him and sit down on the other side of the bed. His face is awfully pale.

"Oh sweetie, I know you're probably mad at me and how I've reacted last night. I know it wasn't fair and I know you only wanted to take care of Sophie. I'd just been in shock and…maybe a little stressed. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings and you should know that." I tell him. He only shrugs his shoulder. I want to rub his back, but I can't. I'm not sure whether the touch would only hurt him more.

"Ryan, I know you're tired right now, but I would like to know why you've called your social worker and asked to annul the adoption." My husband asks. I think it's a little too early for such a question. The boy is visibly in no condition to have a conversation. We don't get a reaction, but it occurs to me that I can't allow him to retreat. He needs to see that his thought - or whatever had led him to this action - was senseless and unreasonable.

"Honey, I know that you're upset and I can understand you. I shouldn't have had the fight with Seth in front of you, and I know I should have reacted different, but I can't make it right. I can only blame the stress for it, but nothing else and I know I'm not supposed to let off steam on my family. Believe me, it had been an accident. I didn't do it deliberately." I try to explain him. He doesn't look as if he understands and somehow we should give him some time to recover before starting to lecture him. I look at my husband.

"Okay buddy, we'll leave it at that, but you aren't through with this. We'll talk about this and we'll sort things out. Despite, I think you've punished yourself enough with your own action, as Neil decided to send a psychologist to check your mental health and I know that this will be like torture for you, so I leave it for today." My husband says. Right now I realise that this soft-toy thing had been a stupid idea. We're really faced with something bigger again and this monkey in my hand feels out of place – especially because I don't know how Ryan will react. It's like no matter what we're doing, it's wrong. We kind of lost the boy again. There had been something that disconnected him from us. But what? I can't believe it only had been my fight with my eldest or my outburst last evening. Usually Ryan was able to distinguish between what was meant and what was not. He was too smart to think I had wanted to hurt him. I shift a little closer to him. I look at him. His eyes are closed. No, he doesn't feel too well. That's obvious. I stroke through his hair and the feeling of wanting to protect him overwhelms me.

"Oh sweetie." I just say and try to put an arm around him, but I'm carefully not to touch his back.

"Everything will be okay again. I promise we'll sort things out." I tell him and place the monkey in front of him. He turns his head and looks confused at me, frowning.

"I know you're a little too old for this, but Seth and I realised you have no soft-toy in your room and everybody needs one." I justify the monkey's presence. He's shoving it away.

"Hey…" I say, but seeing how he starts to cramp under my touch, I understand. It's the usual game. He ought to stop visits in hospitals and surgeries. It's obvious that this doesn't do him any good.

"Oh honey." I say and reach for a bowl. I have to hold it, as he needs his hands to support his weight. He's retching awfully. I want to rub his back, but I can't. It's all bandaged. I stroke through his hair instead, but it doesn't feel the same. It doesn't feel the way it ought to feel for a mother comforting her agonizing son.

"Everything will be okay." I tell him. His body convulses violently under his retching. I don't know what to do to make him stop. I look at my husband. He's helpless as I am. By the time the tension in his body eases off.

"Are you better now?" I ask him, but I don't get a reaction. He only curls up again – as far as possible with his leg, and tries to ignore us once again.

"Does this mean we're back from where we started from?" I ask him. Of course he doesn't respond.

"Ryan…please…give us a chance. When somebody had messed it up then it had been me, but not Sandy. So, if you have to punish someone, then punish me, but not some innocent. Understood?" I admonish him. I don't want him to punish me either as I can't stand him rejecting me. It's so painful when he does so. It's not the way he's rejecting, but…it's not the harmful force, but it's his indifference about things – about himself. That's the worst thing. He's hurting himself. I can't stand it when he's hurting himself. I place the monkey in front of him. That's how I start to make my point clear. He's shoving it away.

"Oh no, if you don't allow us to sooth and protect you, you have to let him do the job." I tell him. It becomes clearer and clearer to me how wrong I've reacted, and now I fear this might be some kind of terminal end and we'll never be able to make Ryan trust us again. I'd never thought that a simple fight, a wrong reaction could end up with such a result. I've forgotten how fragile Ryan still is, although he tries hard not to be. He is and there's no way out of it.

"Ryan, can you at least give us a sign that you're listening to us?" My husband goes on.

"Just…leave." He whispers. I look at my husband. There's nothing else to do. We've lost the fight for good. I doubt I can bring up the amount of strength again. No, I definitely can't.

"No. Ryan, we are not going to start again. We won't allow you to retreat again. You'll have to sort this out, with us." My husband says and doesn't make the impression to retreat from his position. Thus I also remain in my position. Ryan makes a few attempts to get rid of the monkey, but I don't let him. I place it back again and again. I start from new stroking through his hair. His forehead feels hot. I knew he was coming down with something. Maybe this is the reason for his unbearable discomfort. He starts coughing. He reaches for the mug with tea on the nightstand. He's carefully. He knows that his stomach would be upset, if he drank too fast. I feel how he starts shifting under his sheets again.

"Hey, feeling sick again?" I ask him. He slightly nods. I reach for the bowl again – a nurse had come and changed it. It can't be good if he loses all liquids he's putting into his body.

"It's okay honey." I see from the angle of my eye how my husband leaves. I beg he leaves for a doctor or someone who can bring my son relief. His retching becomes more violent. But I'm still astonished that he's silent. If Seth throws up you can hear him through the whole house. My husband comes back with a nurse. She's looking pitiful at the boy who's so miserable, although he has had worse days.

"Might be linked to his fever." The nurse says. She has a syringe in her hand and waits. It takes a little while until my boys stomach settles again. I hand him a glass of water. He takes a sip and rinses his mouth. I stroke through his hair. The nurse comes and pulls the blanket away and then injects something into his thigh. He flinches.

"Shhh…it'll help you to get better soon." I sooth him.

"Okay, this should help to settle his stomach." The nurse says and then leaves us again.

"Oh honey. I promise the days in Föhr will do you a lot good. I know you don't want to think about that yet, as it means you'll have to spend a lot of time with us, but I promise it'll be good for you." I sooth him. I know it'll be a tough fight to get him there. He knows that he has to depend on us, as he's never been somewhere other than California. It'll be a completely new experience for him: new country, new continent, new way to travel and a foreign language, foreign buildings and a lot of foreign people. I'd seen that one night that he had been intimidated and he has all right to. This was something he'd never thought of would happen to him – he'd never thought about leaving Chino, now he is faced with the continent. I watch the boy drifting into sleep. I hope it'll be a rest – and peaceful sleep. He needs it. I fear the outcome of the conversation with the therapist Neil wants to send to see him. I'm afraid he might decide that he shouldn't stay with us. This would be the worse outcome ever. I know and see all the mistakes. Three kids. I had never thought I was going to have even one after my abortion, and now I have three of them. After Seth I'd never thought I would get prised with another child, until Ryan appeared in our lives. I had never thought I would get pregnant again. The doctors had made clear to me that this was close to being impossible. But then I did and now we have Sophie – our youngest family member. Maybe I'm really overtaxed. I've never been prepared for the kids, not when Seth arrived, especially not for Ryan's arrival or even Sophies. I look at my husband. My look goes back to my son and I see that he's deep asleep. We leave the room.

"So what do you think?" I ask my husband. He only looks sceptical at me.

"That we have a huge problem." He answers. "Out of whatever reasons, Ryan had switched back into his rejection modus and I'm not sure whether I like the idea that a therapist will have to check on him in this situation." He expresses my fears.

"Do you think he can take Ryan away from us?"

"I don't know, but if he thinks we can't handle him and aren't doing him good I guess he or she can, indeed."

"But…I mean this can't only be the effect of my outburst or?" I want him to ensure me that this wasn't my fault.

"I can't tell you, but if it was, he's quite more labile than we thought he was." My husband answers. The feeling of anxiety increases again. It feels as if everything is going to fall apart.

"Sandy is…is it okay to say…that you feel overtaxed as parent? I mean…I know it had been our decision to take the kids and to be their parents…but we have to be honest: this job is quite harder than we thought it would…especially with Ryan…I…I just let me explain it that way: I love him and I don't want to miss him, but I thought that we should be able to solve things after he had agreed to see a therapist; and now we are faced with the fact that nothing had worked. I mean, what if there is no cure or solution for his problem?" I ask my husband. I had put all my hopes into the therapy thing that it hurts to find out it had only been a false hope. It is as if the whole progress he made lately was just some kind of comedy. Where is the progress now? This progress had supposed to be the instrument for us getting Ryan through situations like that and now there's nothing. We can't help him. Again he has built up these huge and thick walls we'll never seem to be able to tear down one day. I'm despaired. I don't want to handle this anymore, although I know I have no other choice but doing so.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N.:** Thanks ParisAmy for betaing and thanks for all those nice reviews

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**12**

I feel miserable and I have no clue why. Is it because my leg is now damaged forever ? Maybe the pain? Maybe the fact that my headache gets worse every second and my throat feels itchy and sore? I don't know. No…well, yes I only know I can't admit it. Sandy and Kirsten are right, we're back where we started from. This is proof enough of that Seth is right. They aren't my parents. Of course they aren't biologically. But even emotionally there's nothing. I mean why else had this fucking sentence been able to throw me a loop? What does this loop mean? I've needed this sentence to realise where I belong and it's definitely not with the Cohens. I'm still nothing more than a project. I'm nothing more than a stray puppy to them to which they got used to, and now just don't want to miss around. These thoughts rip my heart out and it hurts. I know it had been a fucked up action calling my social worker and asking him, whether it is possible to annul the adoption. But I have to do something. I don't want Seth to be mad at me. He's their son. He has the right to be treated as one. He has the right to be annoyed about all the attention they're paying to me. But I don't want them fighting with each other. I don't want Kirsten fighting with Seth – her son – about something that's only my fault. She should have been arguing with me not with Seth. I'm the intruder. I still don't get why they had decided to let me stay, although they have a second biological child. It doesn't feel right somehow. I'm only a substitute and now they have their original. I want them to let me go so badly. I can't handle being around them with Seth being mad at me. He has all right to be mad. I'm claiming all the time his parents should serve him, not me. I can't be the reason for any more fights. I need to leave. I can't go on like this. It hurts to be the reason for discomfort. I had to deal with it for too long as if I could go on. Honestly, it sometimes really hurts to be me and not only because my fucking leg just decided to strike. No, this is not funny and I can understand that Seth is annoyed. I'm only causing trouble and they have to pick up the pieces again. They should send me back – where ever I came from. And vacations? Are they kidding? They can't be serious about taking such a bunch of problems with them on a vacation. They're supposed to be relaxing and funny. You can forget these characteristics when I'm present, especially now with my leg. No, no, no. I have to leave them. After all they've done for me. I can't ask them for more. They took me in, because things seemed to be so easy. I'm sure if they'd known what was coming up to them, they'd said no and forego me. That's what they were supposed to do. I still can't get why the burdened themselves with me. Seth is right. They are not even my parents. They aren't supposed to care for me like that. They should take care of Soph and Seth, and leave me out of this parenting business. I'm old enough to take care of myself and being crippled it no excuse in this case. A knock on the door drags me out of my thoughts. A man enters. I don't know him, but I know his mission: finding out how fucked up I am. Well, I guess that's obvious. No, I still don't get why Seth's sentence had hit me that hard.

"Hello Ryan, I'm Martin." He introduces himself. Why do these people have to be such artificially friendly? Don't they think one realises that they are as tired as the rest of us? I don't answer. I don't want to answer.

"Okay, you're not in the best mood. I wonder if I'll ever meet a teenager who is happy to meet me. Probably not as long as I have to come in the mission of a therapist." He says, takes a chair and sits down – uncomfortably close to the bed.

"How is your leg?" He asks. As if the small-talk could make me lighten up.

"Damaged for the rest of my life." I only answer. I don't even think about lightening up my mood. I don't even care to what kind of conclusion this guy will come regarding this. I don't care.

"Okay, not nice news. I would be grumpy too if I had to deal with that at your age." Yes, turn the knife in my back. I love the feeling.

"Well, I'm not big fan for beating around the bush, so would you like to tell me why you have asked your social worker, whether it's possible to annul the adoption?" He asks me.

"I won't like it." I answer sounding as smug as I can to show him that I'm not falling for his I'm-your-best-friend-route. He sighs. I know he's the last person who's responsible for the shit I'm in again. He's only doing his job. I shouldn't be that mean to him. On the other hand, he's treating me like a child, or more precisely: like a nut case. Does he really think that talking to me like to a mentally impaired person would improve my mood? But then, referring to my behaviour: I don't give him a good reason for treating me differently. Great. My fault followed by an immediate bad conscience.

"Sorry." I apologize. He's the last person to be blamed for this, so I really feel sorry for being an ass right now.

"No problem. I can understand that you don't like to talk about it. I only need to know whether there are hidden problems…you know lift the veil in case there are server conflicts one can't detect on first watch." He explains his job.

"So, can you tell me about your motives?" He asks again, I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. I need to come up with something that doesn't land me in some place of lock up.

"I…just…I have the feeling as if this isn't working anymore. They have their own kids, even a second one and…have lesser time for their son after Soph's birth and…" It feels stupid to pour your heart out in front of someone you hardly know. What else am I supposed to do?

"Who's Soph?" He asks me. Stupid question or?

"Their daughter, Sophie Rose, but we all call her Soph"

"And now they don't have enough time for you and your brother?" He asks on. Brother? The one I had died in front of my eyes and I'm not sure whether I can consider Seth as brother. Emotionally yes, but what about the rest? I mean rationally there's no brother left or? I mean seen in a more empirical way there's no brother left or?

"No…they…all their time…I mean…" Shit. I don't want to draw him a wrong picture from the Cohens. This isn't fair. It's not their fault. It's mine. It's me who claims all their time. It's me who is the broken toy. It's me who isn't intact. It's me who causes all the trouble. Not the Cohens, not Sophie and not Seth.

"You're having a bad conscience, because your injury requires more attention than you think you deserve." He concludes. I stop saying anything. I don't like him. He's an asshole.

"Don't look at me like this. You're not the first boy with this background and this problem, believe me. I know a lot of them." He says and now my mood at reached zero degrees.

"Well, if you want to know my point of view: if they were be bothered by all that has happened, they probably wouldn't have cared." He says.

"How do you want to know?" I only snarl. I don't want to talk about this topic anymore.

"Okay, now you're angry. I guess I have hit a nerve. " Okay, no I don't like where this is going. I want him to stop this.

"Why don't you think you deserve the attention and care they provide to you?" He asks on. Isn't it obvious or hasn't he read my file. I don't answer. I can't.

"You know what? You're a sad teenager with an unbearable lack of self-esteem." He says. Is he allowed to say all these annoying things to me? Hell, I wish I was dead right now. I don't want him telling me all these things I don't want to know about.

"You were taking antidepressants and I've read in your file that there has been a lot of reason for you to take them. Why did you stop taking them?" Because I don't want to end up as a fucking junkie, that's the reason.

"Ryan, listen to me, I know that antidepressants aren't very comforting, but you was supposed to take them, because all what has happened to you, it was affecting your whole emotional net and your body. And what we're faced with here is just a relapse. So, I want to know why did you stop taking these pills?"

"They were making me sick." I only mumble hoping he would just leave it with that.

"Sick?"

"Hell, I couldn't eat, because I felt like puking all the time and.… they made me tired. Not really of advantage if you have to catch up on your school work." I say. I want him not to even think about hooking me onto these little bastards once again. I don't want to take them. I have seen what drugs can do to people. It doesn't matter, whether they are legal or illegal. The effect is the same.

"So, your body didn't tolerate them. It happen sometimes. I'll talk to your therapist and tell him to prescribe you new ones, some that should make you feel better even physically and then you need to go to your sessions frequently. It's not only important for your wellbeing, but also for your family."

"A little difficult if you're in hospital, but maybe you can persuade them not to take me onto this vacation trip they're planning, I mean I won't be able to attend my sessions when I'm not here." I tell him.

"Oh…yes…yes, but no. I can imagine a nice family holiday is exactly what your lack of self-esteem needs."

"That's paradox." He doesn't seem to know what he wants or better what is good or not, because frequent sessions aren't happening when you're on a vacation.

"No, it's not. You can start from new when you come back. Maybe a little break does you good. You can sort some things out and get your thoughts and feelings in order. This can make your therapist's job a lot easier." He says. Do I look as if I want to make it easy for some kind of shrink? I mean he doesn't get paid for doing nothing. He should earn his money and not only by waiting, but by real hard work.

"Ryan, listen to me. You're whole defensive behaviour, your aggressions these all are signs that you're still not able to deal with yourself without help and this is …understandable. You've just got to start to accept any kind of help; and stop thinking, although people help and care that they in real don't. Understood?" Oh. My. God. Why do these people need to talk that much a day?

"Okay, I'm done here, and I don't think there is any reason for me to tell your social worker to annul the adoption, because the whole conflict behind that lies with you." He says, puts the chair back and then leaves. I let my head drop back into the pillow. Right, I don't know, whether my headache is related to some sort of being sick or to the speech of this man. I feel like a total idiot right now. Where is the famous hole you can disappear in when you need to? Definitely not here. I sigh…well I try to but my throat is itchy and my chest is too tight to take a real deep breath and I doubt it's only because of the bandages my whole upper-body is wrapped in. Great. Really great. Not that I'm crippled, I'm going to get a cold again too. I'm pissed at my life. How can it be that for sixteen years nothing could knock me out; but now the slightest germ, a sentence can break me? That's definitely not right – not for me. I'm not right. Something had changed and I don't think what it was and how it has changed. It used to take more than just a stupid sentence. Why not anymore? What was the difference between Seth and my Mom? Had hit it me harder, what Seth said, than what my Mom used to say to me? Sure, what Seth had said caught me off guard. I hadn't expected something like that.

"Hey Ryan, ready to go?" It's Sandy. I didn't hear him knocking, but probably he didn't. He drops some cloths on the bed, my sign to disappear in the bathroom and get changed. I do as they want me to. I hate crutches. I always feel as if they'll slip on the ground. I can't gain any grip with them. Well, nice mess, my mess. I should have…let Soph cry? Let her starve? Let Seth get through with his behaviour and therefore hurting Soph? This isn't fair. She can't even defend herself. She needs to be protected. I can't…once in a life time is enough. I'll never watch how someone harms a baby by pure negligence. I see how Sandy throws some cloths into a duffle bag and on top of it…this monkey. I so have no idea whose idea this had been. But it's definitely a bad one. It reminds me. It reminds me of things I don't want to be reminded of, as Soph reminds me of things I like to be reminded of…well not…really but she gives me a new chance…she can be the proof that I didn't fail that summer. I see how Sandy plays around with the toy monkey. I only look at him.

"What?" He asks. This is not really a question is it? "C'mon kid, don't be so stern and serious. See this as the beginning of your punishment after the scare you've sent to us. Be prepared, that time for privacy and brooding will be rare now. We'll be like your shadow as long as you tell us, what in hell you've been thinking when you called your social worker. I know that with Sophie's birth, and with Seth being jealous and Kirsten's outburst things must have been intimidating for you. But you should have learned that you can ask us and talk to us, before jumping over decisions." He lectures me. Shit, shit, fuck. I should have thought about the aftermath of my actions.

"Kid, no matter if you like it or not, you're a member of the Cohen family now, with all features, advantages and disadvantages. Or see it that way, your old life is over and now you'll accept this monkey as your new buddy, because the tough guy time is over. You're a Cohen now."

"What's up your mind?" Sandy asks. I only shrug my shoulders. I'm not in the mood for talking. We make our way to the car and I feel an awful itch in my throat. I try to suppress it. I don't want to claim any unnecessary attention. My chest feels tight that it hurts and the itching becomes worse. I can't hold back and I start to cough. Not good. My chest only starts to hurt more. Shit! My body is rebelling violently under the coughing and I lose my crutches. Shit! I have to fight to keep balance, but it's hard because the coughing causes such a violent vibration in my body that it's hard for me to relay only on one leg as I need both right now.

"Hey kid, that doesn't sound good." Sandy says and warps a supporting arm around my waist. I don't like it when he's doing that. It not only makes me feel weak and helpless but also miserable, because of my asshole behaviour that finds its way back to the surface. Shouldn't I be in a position where I just don't care what people say to me? I should. Honestly: life sucks and that not only sometimes. I feel his comforting warm hand on my forehead.

"Yep, definitely a temperature. Let's get you home and to bed. You need to be on track for Friday." And I had thought they were only joking about this holiday trip. Hell, do I look as if I want to be on a holiday trip? I hop into the car and Sandy drives on. I'm glad he doesn't start one of his lectures, but concentrates on the street. We enter the drive way and the car stops. I push the door open and slowly crawl out of the car.

"You need any help kid?"

"No…thanks." I answer.

"Wow, you won your speech back. That's a good start." Sandy says. We go towards the house and he unlocks the door.

"Sandy, is it you?" Kirsten calls out of the kitchen.

"Yep." He answers. I hate to be slowly like that, but coming fast forward isn't happening with these crutches. Sandy waits for me. Should I tell him that he can stop with this pity behaviour? I don't like it. After hours I reach the kitchen and I'm happy to recognise that added to my throat, my knee starts to hurt like shit too; and I don't even want to think about my back. These are going to be great vacations. I don't even know how to survive the trip. If someone has a gun he doesn't need, he or even she can lend it to me. I have some good ideas for use.

"Hey Ryan." Kirsten says and steps towards me. Usually I liked to be hugged, but not today. I have the feeling as if something got damaged again and I have no idea what it was.

"Oh Ryan, what in hell went wrong this one evening that you reject us with all your force again?" She asks me.

"Nothing." I only mumble. I don't want to think about this evening anymore. I want to blank it out. I have no clue how, but I will do so.

"Well, it doesn't look like that. But let us first get you to bed." Sandy says and gently guides me to the pool house. I'm glad to be able to lie down on my own bed again. It's much more comfortable than these hospital beds. Kirsten follows us, thermometer in one hand, and a bottle of juice in the other. I put the crutches aside and crawl under the blankets.

"Open your mouth." Kirsten commands. I only look at her. I hadn't been tortured with a thermometer since…I've never been and I don't think I want to start with it. Right, since the accident I was forced to start with it. I should be used to the procedure.

"Young man, after your little phone call you should be a little more cooperative." She says now in a stern voice, nearly steely and yes I'm afraid. I obey and she sticks the thermometer under my tongue and no I don't like it. Her cold hand fumbles around my forehead, then my cheeks. I try to avoid her touch, but she's hard to avoid. The thermometer beeps and Kirsten reads it.

"Oh sweetie, that's a little high. Here take these and then you go straight to sleep." She says and hands me two small pills. Only her glance tells me there's no way to say no. So, I swallow them. Then I'm allowed to lie down. I turn onto my side. She tucks me in. All this hovering starts to make me aggressive and on top of all, she places the monkey near my head. I toss it away.

"Hey! Don't blame him for your bad mood." She admonishes me. He? When was this monkey something more than an It. But he? Hell, what is it about these … I must be dreaming, otherwise I would say, she had snuggled this fucking monkey into my arms. I'm no baby anymore.

"And now stop fighting us or the monkey. You should have learned your lesson from the last time. You have no chance. And now go to sleep. You need it." She says and pecks me forehead before she leaves. I feel confused; from bitch into mother in less than a second. I should stop with these thoughts. They are confusing me. Everything is confusing me.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N.:** Thanks for the reviews and PariyAmy's beta job. When you're all confused and angry, then I've fulfilled my mission ;)

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**13.**

I go back to the pool house in the evening. Ryan had fallen asleep and hadn't made any effort to wake up. Seth hadn't appeared around us since Ryan came home. I can tell there's something utterly wrong between them, and I have the feeling as if this is more than the both of them can take. But for helping them and solving their problems I need to know what it was between them, but without any of them talking to me it's impossible. My wife is right. We definitely need these vacations in which we have to stick together – only we five of us. We need to sort things out and we need to kick some new sense into Ryan's head. I silently enter the pool house. The boy is curled up in the bed, the monkey at his side. I would like to make a picture of this. Ryan would kill me, but it looks somehow…cute. Am I allowed to think like that about my seventeen years old son? I don't care. I step closer to him.

"Hey kid, time for some dinner." I try to wake him, but he's already deep in sleep. I gently shake him.

"mmm" I hear him growl. His voice sounds a little hoarse. I only hope he can get this cold out of his system until Friday. Otherwise it'll be a hell of a trip for the boy.

"C'mon you need to eat something." I say and he struggles out of his covers. When his glance meets the monkey he grabs it and is about to throw it out of the bed.

"Don't even think about that." I tell him. I don't know what this is about the monkey. Maybe imposing some kind of punishment on him. Maybe imposing some parenting on him. Or maybe just making fun at his expenses. I don't care. I only want him to behave like a human being again.

"Not you too." He only growls and let goes of the monkey. I ask myself why he's doing that. He can't hurt or damage anything with throwing and tossing the monkey.

"Oh yes, you get what you deserve." I answer.

"What the heck did I do, to deserve this monkey?" He asks. I look at him. His voice sounds rough and hoarse and I can hear how he struggles to speak in normal voice. It sounds like some sharp metal is scratching his vocal chords. Another chest infection has found its way through to him. I really would like to know why he's so sensitive in his chest. If it's related to his former smoking habit? For answering it, I needed to know for how long he had been smoking; but he won't let us in into his past, especially not more than necessary.

"Did you suffer from some kind of amnesia or do I really have to remind you?" I ask him and guilt blushes his cheeks. Well, I didn't mean to be that mean to him, but he needs to know what he had done had hurt us awfully.

"Sorry…I…I didn't think about I was doing." He whispers and I can hear he feels guilty in all fibres. He's taking a deep breath and I have the feeling as if I can hear a rattle coming from his chest. Seth uses to have a sensitive nose and everything connected with that. I can't imagine him having only had one chest infection. It's not the infection itself that's worrying me, but the high fever related to it.

"I know that you sometimes don't think about what you're doing, but I know that you're not doing anything without reason and I would appreciate it, if one of you – Seth or you – would tell me. I know there's something going on between you and him and it's obvious that it doesn't do you both any good. So, better one of you starts to tell me what happened that evening." I say and I hope Ryan would open up to me.

"There was nothing." He whispers and I know from what my eldest had told me that this was wrong. I know there had been a fight, I only don't know the extent of it and this is exactly what's making me worry.

"Well, I know at least that there had been a fight between you and Seth. I would like to know what had caused it and what had happened to cause the fight." I say. Ryan doesn't look at me. I back away. I don't want to push this topic, not now. I wait for him, until he had managed to get out of bed. He looks even worse than when I had brought him home from hospital.

"Did your fever go up?" I ask him. I start to worry again. We had known since the weekend that the boy was coming down with something. Now I'm scared that the surgery might have worsened whatever he's carrying around in his bones.

"Dunno." He says and grabs his crutches. I can't help but have to check. I know he's no fan of physical affection, but it had gotten worse, definitely.

"Okay, I guess that's more a Kirsten job. Go back to bed and I get her." I'm afraid. The heat radiating from his forehead is alarming.

"First you force me out of bed and now I shell go back? Couldn't you have made this decision at the beginning?" He grumbles. I know he probably doesn't feel well, because this behaviour is typical for a sick Ryan, as well as for a helpless and injured Ryan, a Ryan who had been woken up too early in the morning, a Ryan who has to…in somehow this seems to be his favourite mood lately.

"Ryan, you better pipe down. It's not like we're already over with your phone call." I announce him and he drops down on the bed. I go back inside.

"Hey honey, where's Ryan?" My wife asks, while she's preparing the dinner – getting the food out of the box and onto a plate.

"I think he has a bad fever again." I tell her. I see the concern on her face.

"Not again. Sandy we need to do something about his immune system. This can't go on. Not that I don't want to take care of him. It's just a little too much. I doubt he's happy with this situation." My wife starts complaining again. What does complaining mean? She just talks about the inevitable.

"Let's see what the vacation can do for him and us."

"If he's able to make the journey." My wife says. She fetches the thermometer out of a kitchen cabinet and then goes to the pool house. I follow her. I have the curious feeling as if Ryan's bad mood isn't over yet.

"Hey sweetie, Sandy said you're fever might have gone up a little?" She says.

"Don't think it's that bad." He says. Sometimes he really behaves childish and that's so uncharacteristic of Ryan that it is annoying.

"We'll see, open the mouth." My wife says. He rolls his eyes. I only look at him. One glance is enough to make him have a bad conscience. I exploit his situation that's true. He obeys. My wife sticks the thermometer under his tongue and then brushes the bangs out of his face. We wait and I see the boys discomfort growing. We wait for the thermometer to …there it is. My wife takes the it.

"102.4. No, really not so bad. Worse." My wife shoots angry glares at him. "Okay, you go, take a shower, go back to bed and I come back with some medicine. And don't even think about discussing about a doctor's appointment. We want to go on vacation on Friday." She says and the boys face tells me he feels intimidated.

"Why don't you take a break from sick service and I take care of it." I say. As much as the boy deserves this, I'm afraid he might draw back again.

When I come back with everything I need, Ryan's already sitting on the bed. His knee looks awful. The skin is nothing but scars and I don't want to imagine the pain he's in, when the pain medication wears off. His back is alarmingly red. His face is drawn with concern. I sit down next to him. I don't say anything. When I have learned one thing in all the last months then that the boy needs space to be able to express his thoughts. He's thinking carefully about what he's saying. I'd wish he was as carefully when he acted.

"Kirsten's pretty pissed at me, or?" He asks. I should reproach him for language, but I know he wouldn't use it, if he didn't need the word to express what he feels.

"Not only her." I say.

"Shit." He says. I hope I can get him to open up. Indeed it has become a little easier, but not as easy as it is supposed to be.

"What?" I ask him. I have to push him a little - only a little not to make him back away, but enough to make him talk to me.

"I dunno…just…" He trails of. Poor boy still has problems with expressing his thoughts and emotions and that after months of torturing therapy sessions.

"Just what Ryan? Just express yourself. You don't have to think how to wrap it up in nice words. Give me the plain thought. I promise I can handle it." I try to make him more comfortable. I see him thinking. He doesn't like to talk about his feelings and I'm last person he would tell. Usually it's Kirsten he opens up to, but again there is this barrier that makes him stop at every attempt.

"It…I just thought it was supposed to get easier with time, but…I…it's only getting more difficult." He says or better whispers. I don't know whether it is because of a sore throat or because he's too afraid to say out loud what he thinks.

"Well, things had been easier since your outburst of which I still don't know the reason." I say. I have the suspicion that he's blaming himself for something that isn't his fault and I have the curious feeling as if my eldest has something to do with this.

"Obviously it hadn't." Oh, now he's angry again. I don't like it when the boy has no control over his moods. He's becoming unpredictable then and this is dangerous – for him and us.

"Ryan, stop. Calm down. It's no help for anyone if you freak out." I put a hand onto his shoulder. I need to show him that I'm there to help him. He had felt helpless and alone for too long and we have seen where it leads to. I have to make it different this time. I have to stay patient and calm for him.

"And now tell me what this is about. What makes you think it hadn't been easier? Because I really thought it was." I tell him. I hope this only is some kind of fear attack. I wouldn't be astonished if it was. The boy had gone through too much as if he could accept his life here without any kind of relapse.

"Seth?" He asks. He looks so unsecure and helpless. I let out a sigh. I had known that Seth's behaviour was going to have an impact on Ryan. Seth is or was Ryan's best friend and I have the feeling he really sees him as brother. Ryan would do everything for Seth – besides something I have to change anyway.

"You mean his attack of jealousy?" I ask him. He only nods. He doesn't look at me. He's staring at the blanket or at the sheets.

"This has nothing to do with you. If something gone wrong then it's Kirsten's and my fault, but not yours. He can't blame you for anything, or did you injure your leg deliberately?" He shakes his head.

"So, you understand that if something went wrong then it's Kirsten and I to be blamed for?"

"But…if it wasn't for me the problem wouldn't have occurred." He whispers. I have to brace myself not to fly into black rage.

"Hell Ryan, did these months of therapy knock any sense into you?" I ask him. He only shrugs his shoulders. I have no clue of how to handle this any further. Another therapist? Yes, of course.

"Ryan, I don't want to insult you, but probably we shouldn't have discontinued with the antidepressants." I say to him. I feel bad for saying this, because it's only another way of saying you're sick, something is wrong with you; and I'm sure that's not what he wants to hear right now.

"Guess so." He replies indifferently and I'm stunned. I hadn't expected this as reply. But this only shows how miserable he is about the whole situation. I feel bad for making him feel bad.

"Oh kid." I say and wrap and arm around him – carefully not to touch the sore skin on his back -tucking him at my side. "What's wrong, huh? I can see that something is bothering you badly. I can smell that it's linked to the lately events and with Seth' behaviour." I say. It's awful seeing how much pain this boy can inflict to himself only to remain loyal. Hell, they are brothers, they have to rat on each other. This is a normal progress.

"This is something I have to sort out with Seth." He says. I can understand him. He is used to solve such things on his own without a parent on his back.

"Yeah, but you know how stubborn Seth can be sometimes."

"But…just let me try first, okay?" He says.

"Okay, but don't let it eat you up. I know that it's hard for you to deal with Seth' current behaviour and I see how this hurts you and I know that Sophie's birth has some kind of impact on you. But I want you to know that there is not the slightest reason for you to doubt your position in this family. You'd rather see these things as the normal process in a family and the fact that these bad days are affecting you as well, should be your assurance that you're part of this – sometimes just crazy – family." I tell him. He only nods. It's sometimes hard to think of him as not an original family member. It's so easy to forget that he has a past from which we don't know a lot, and it's easy to forget that he sees things differently as we do. A fight between parents for him has a different meaning as for Seth. Whereas Seth might see them as a disturbing exception, Ryan is thrown back into his violent past and what fights can cause. Whereas Seth doesn't intend to hurt someone through his behaviour and thinks of it as something usual, Ryan gets thrown back into his past and fears losing another brother.

"And now let me have a look at your back." I say. There's not a lot we can do about it, other than bandaging it and saving it from getting infected. He doesn't flinch or wince when I start to bandage his back as carefully as I can.

"Here and now take these and lie back down. I come back later to check on you." I say to him when I'm finished with the bandages, and peck his forehead as I use to do with Seth. He lies down and I tuck him in, put the monkey back at his closer side. He only glares at me.

"Oh no, the monkey stays there. Don't even think about throwing the poor buddy out of the bed." I say and ruffle through his hair and then leave.

"How is he?" My wife asks concerned.

"What do you mean?"

"I guess you've talked to him?" She asks expectantly.

"I think we should find a new therapist. The boy still doesn't know that he belongs here." I answer. I don't know how to help him. We'd failed the last time and now this set back.

"Honestly Sandy, I put all my hope into these vacations. If we don't get things sorted out there, I don't know whether I'm able to go on like that." She says. She says what she feels, how she feels and she has all right to do so. But I feel awful. We had promised the boy that things were going to be okay, but they didn't. They didn't get worse, but they didn't get any better either.

"I can understand you, but …I "

"You feel bad for the boy and I do either, but what are we supposed to do? Seth is already jealous and I don't want it getting worse. He's my son too and I have to care for him as well. He needs us too. And then there's Sophie. She needs us, because without us she's helpless. We can't put all our energy into…Ryan." She says. I can't understand her. I have the feeling as if the whole household had turned into a madhouse. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. Not only about what my wife says, but about myself. I can't see any clear through the fog of confusion in this house. I leave. I have to do something – anything.

"Where are you going?" My wife asks me. She sounds upset too.

"Checking whether we can annul the adoption." I answer. This hadn't been planned to be said. I wasn't even thinking of it, but I have to confront my wife with what she's saying. Everything seems to be just mere facade. Didn't she buy him this monkey to make him being more part of our family? If this is the truth, why can she say things like these?

"You're what? Sandy,…could you please tell me what this is supposed to mean?" She now nearly screams at me.

"Isn't this what you'll want to do, if the vacations don't bring the outcome you want them to?" I now nearly scream back.

"Hell Sandy, I wasn't talking about giving up on him. I only reminded you of our two other children."

"Children that have plenty of everything – love, parents, sibling, materialistic stuff."

"It's not our fault that Ryan didn't grow up like our kids and I don't think I should feel bad about it!" My wife now screams.

"I don't say that you have to feel pity for him, but you have to understand that Ryan's former life has left its marks!" I scream back, not knowing what this is about.

"Marks I'm tired of!" She now screams back in her steely cold voice.

"And this is the reason why I called my social worker." We hear a voice from the door to the patio.

"Ryan…" I need an explanation. I have to tell him something. Anything. Words. Words? I have to no idea what to do. I only watch Ryan turning around and limping away on his crutches. This is not the direction to the pool house, but I'm too shocked to stop him. He wasn't supposed to witness this.

"Ryan!" Another voice comes from the hallway. Not he too. Oh my God. Seth never will understand this. I don't even want to know how much this must have hurt him, when he had listened…oh my God what have I said? I watch Seth running after Ryan. If Seth is the right person in this moment? I wish Marissa was there right now. Into the bargain the baby phone starts screaming. My wife looks at it.

"Usually I would say well done Sandy." My wife says. She looks guilty. "But this time it's our both fault." She says and then heads upstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N.: **Hey, it's me again. Thanks to my beta ParisAmy I'm again able to send you a new chapter. Thanks for all the nice reviews and I hope I'm not too mean ;)

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**14.**

We're sitting in the den. Neither our eldest nor our youngest have found their way back. I'm worried. I'm worried about my eldest because he never runs away and when he's past curfew he calls. But he doesn't even answer his cell. And our youngest? I'm afraid he might start drinking again or even worse. The door opens. This means someone is home and usually it's both. So, I can stop to worrying now. A shy wave of disappointment hits me when I see it's only Seth coming home; but at least one of them. Now there's only half my worry left, because when one of them is home the other one can't be too far away.

"Seth!" I call out when my eldest enters the den. He looks devastated and I can see concern and a bad conscience being drawn on his face.

"Seth, where's Ryan?" My husband asks. Ryan's sick, Ryan's injured and he belongs in bed that is for sure.

"I don't know, but I'm there now." He answers. I sigh. He's right. Ryan can come to terms. We know this game. He runs and he comes back later at night. Then we try to talk to him, he admits everything. That's the usual procedure and that's how things always go.

"Did you follow him?" My husband asks on.

"Yeah: but only to the pier. Then I thought it was better to leave him alone." My son answers. Since when does he think it's better to leave Ryan alone? He never thought so. Why now? He never backed away, no matter how grumpy Ryan was.

"Why did you leave him alone?" My husband seems to be more worried than I am.

"Hell, because he didn't want me around and he was close to punching me, and I don't need that. It's enough when you start fighting because of him. He doesn't need to inflict any more harm to me." This was a clear statement, but this is not my son speaking. He never talks like that. Why now? What had gone wrong so badly that he talks like that about his best friend and brother he used to defend until the bitter end?

"Seth, stop talking like that." My husband reproaches him.

"Why, because it's the truth?" He snaps back. He never snaps at one of us. I'm taken aback by my eldest's behaviour. That doesn't suit him at all.

"No, but because you're hurting us and Ryan." I answer. I have to help my husband and I don't want him to think I'm not on his side. I am. I don't want any of my sons talking bad about the other one. I want my peaceful family life back.

"Is there anything that doesn't hurt him?" He snaps back. That's enough of this talk for me.

"Seth, I don't want you talking like that anymore. You'll go to your room now and you're better be thinking about what you've been saying when I come and demand the apology from you." I say. He looks at me and then slowly goes back to his room.

"Don't you think we should ground him?" My husband asks.

"Doesn't make much sense or? We're flying on Friday." I tell him. If we ground our sons then it must have an impact and that's not done by only a few days. We're left alone and have to wait for our other son. The last time I take a look at the watch it's two in the morning. I finally fall asleep. I'm exhausted. I wake up from the sunlight falling through the windows. I struggle myself into an upright position and out of my husband's arms.

"Is he back?" I ask him. He looks tired and has dark circles under his eyes.

"Nope. I haven't seen him coming." He answers. Oh no. Ryan never stayed away a full night. He used to come home, he's supposed to come home. Oh my God, I wish I'd never said all these things about being tired and so on. He wasn't supposed to listen to it and I wasn't supposed to say those things. He's still a child. He can't understand these things.

"Maybe he's in the pool house. Maybe he sneaked in, when you fell accidentally asleep." I say. All my hope lies with that.

"I don't think so." My husband says and rubs his eyes with his palms. I get up. I want to have a look. I need to be sure. I go out onto the patio. The warm sunrays are massaging my tired back. I step to the pool house and open the door.

The bed is empty. He's not there. My husband was right. The boy didn't come home that night. I slump down on the bed. It's cold. The sheets are neatly folded together. He didn't plan to come back. Why then had he made his bed like that? Not again. Don't let have him run again. How was this possible? The boy depended on crutches and still could run away from us? I take the monkey onto my lap. Why does he hate this thing that much? I hope it's still a 'does' and not a 'did'. I don't want this monkey to be the last memory of my son. We had this fight once. I can't bear having it again.

"He's not there." I say when my husband enters the pool house and sits down next to me.

"I'll go and look for him. He can't have gotten too far. He's on crutches. I can't imagine that he can make long distances with them." If he doesn't underestimate the boy's rage. When he's angry he can pull all his strength together.

"I hope so." I answer and then I go back to the kitchen. I need a coffee. My husband kisses me goodbye and leaves for our other son. I place the monkey onto the kitchen counter. It's a new one and Ryan fights tooth and nail against it, but it already has adopted his smell. This monkey already is part of a bunch of memories. Why doesn't he like it?

"Mom?" My eldest comes into the kitchen. His hair stands up on all sides and he looks like my husband: as if he hasn't gotten enough sleep. I only look at him.

"Ryan's back?" He asks. I shake my head and then focus my look onto the monkey again. I can't be mad at my eldest. He's too young to be able to handle the situation we have thrown ourselves in when we took in Ryan. He's too young to understand the difficulties that being a family for a boy like Ryan cause.

"Dad's looking for him?" He asks again. He's concerned. This is exactly what tells me, he didn't mean what he had said. He only needed a valve to give his anger space.

"Yes." I say, place a mug in front of him and pour some coffee.

"Do you think he ran because of me?" He asks.

"I don't know. Maybe it's a relapse, maybe it's the effect after not taking the antidepressants anymore, maybe it's…I don't know. There are so many possibilities."

"Does he have to take them again?"

"They prescribed him new ones, stronger dosage. Let's hope that they can help him control his emotions." I answer. It's really what I hope for. It makes sense. I mean, since Ryan had stopped taking those, things have gotten worse again. It's hard to accept, but he really seems to need this medication. No mother wants to drug her child, but Ryan doesn't leave us another choice. We can't deal with him and he can't deal with himself. I take the car keys.

"Where do you want to go?" My son asks.

"I need to get his prescriptions." I say. I'm not going to wait one day longer.

"Do you want me to come?"

"No…you better take care of your sister. She'll be awake soon and needs fresh nappies and breakfast." I tell him. I'm glad he accepts his little-sister-duties now. He's a good big brother. Sometimes he just doesn't know how to deal with other person's needs. But he grew up as a single child. He shouldn't be blamed for it.

"Alright. Little-sister-alarm." He says and smiles. I ruffle my hand through his hair and peck his forehead. Then I go. Honestly, I have to do something if I don't want to become crazy at home.

When I come back I catch my eldest feeding his little sister. It's a nice picture.

"Hey honey, is Sandy back?" I ask him. This time he shakes his head, without turning his attention from Sophie. Panic crawls up my spine. I'd already been waiting once for my husband and my youngest such a long time. I still can remember the feeling that the call had caused inside of me. I can only beg that nothing had happened to my boys.

"Oh shit!" I hear my son swear.

"What happened, Seth?" I ask immediately. He still has Sophie in his arms.

"She…vomited onto my shoulder." He says. I can't help it, but have to start to chuckle. That's the revenge for never having carried out big brother's duties before.

"Oh, that's normal." I answer dryly and take Sophie from his arms. Right now she's the only member in the family I don't have to worry about. I can control her. She's not objecting anything. She does what she's supposed to do: sleeping, eating and being my tiny little daughter. I hear the front door open. I feel relief, because this means this time nothing has happened – at least not to both of them. I really doubt that there's anything left for Ryan to happen to him anyway. Someday there must be an end and I decide that this end is now. I won't allow anything to happen to anyone of this family.

My husband enters the kitchen, with a devastated looking Ryan in tow. I give my eldest son my daughter back into the arms.

"There you are." I conclude sternly. I'm angry. But I can't free my anger more than a little bit.

"Yes, there we are." My husband replies, with the same amount of anger playing in his voice.

"Where has he been?" I ask. I'm so damn angry. I don't understand what had led the boy again to run. Well, I know. I know exactly what had made him run; but he's old enough to control his behaviour.

"Somewhere at the beach. He would have come home, but he hadn't been able to make the way back." My husband says. They boy should start to think first and then act.

"Cell?" I ask expectatingly. These things are not only disturbing, but once in a while really helpful.

"Forgotten." Jesus, I should implant a tracking device into…you know the place that barely sees the sunlight.

"Alright. You go to the couch and wait for breakfast." I determine.

"And us three will go into my office and have a conversation." My husband adds. I don't know what this was good for; but when he thinks we need a conversation we should have one. We all three – or four, as Seth's still carrying Sophie in his arm - enter my husband's office. He sits down behind his desk. I take a seat in one of the cosy arm chairs and my eldest sits down on a formal chair.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask my husband.

"I wanted to ask Seth, what he thinks we should impose as punishment to Ryan. He had made clear to us that we aren't strict enough with Ryan. So he should advice us what to do." My husband says and his plan is so cruel. I have to play this game too; though I'm not sure whether I like it or not.

"Wh…what do you mean? I…I have no idea how to do this." My son stammers.

"Okay, I'll give you three options. We can ground him for – let me say eight weeks. We can cut is allowance to half for the rest of the year. Or we ground him only until Friday." My husband says. He can be such a mean man.

"Uh…how did you think to ground him for eight weeks? Didn't we want to go on holidays?" My son asks.

"We leave him with Julie and your Grandpa. I'm sure they'll watch out for him so that he can't do any stupid things." Sometimes I should punish my husband for his cruel fantasy.

"Uh…and…what did you think…about my punishment? I mean I have been gone too, right?"

"Grounded until Friday." My husband speaks the verdict. He hadn't asked me before, but first of all Friday is soon and second of all according to my son's lately behaviour he deserves it.

"Why are you so hard on Ryan?"

"Because he'd been gone for the whole night. You know the principle. The worse crime deserves the worse punishment." My husband says. He had switched in full lawyer modus. That's scary, even to me.

"But…you said yourself he couldn't come home."

"He could have tried harder if he'd been serious about coming home." I have to bite my lip. This is even too hard for me. This is more than I can take listening to. I shoot an angry glance over to my husband, saying: he has to brace himself, if he doesn't want to risk the next argument.

"Uh…well…then…" My eldest frowns. He's really thinking. "Grounded until Friday?" He asks hesitatingly.

"Your choice, but don't complain about we're not hard enough." My husband says.

"No…no I won't." My eldest says fast. My husband nods and leaves the office. My eldest follows him. I put my hands on his shoulders to make him aware I'm still there. This had been tough and he needed reassurance now.

We go back to the living room. Ryan's still sitting on the couch. My eldest lays Sophie back into her crib.

"Ryan, your grounded until Friday. Now let's have breakfast." My husband says. Ryan doesn't say anything. He feels visibly bad, and I doubt it's only physical. I pour a mug of hot steaming coffee and hand it to Ryan. I feel his forehead. It's not hot, lightly warm. His nigh excursion didn't leave any traces on his cold.

"Thanks." He mutters shyly when he takes the mug in both of his hands. My husband puts a plate with a bagel in front of him and hands one to my eldest and another one to me. Ryan's staring at the bagel in his hand.

"You eat." I command. I want my normal healthy family back, including Ryan. He slowly starts eating. I look at my husband. There's still one conversation left and I'm not looking forward to it. When Ryan has eaten his bagel I get up and hand him two pills.

"What's that?" He asks distrustful.

"The new antidepressants." I answer dryly. I see his face drop.

"Ryan, you need them. You can't handle yourself and we can't deal with you when you get upset that easily." I try to explain him. I want him to know that we don't do this to harm him, but to help. He has to accept that he's still emotional sick and that we only try to make it better.

"Kirsten is right. Since we've allowed you to stop taking them, the problems started from new. This is enough evidence proving you need them." My husband interferes. He takes the pills and swallows them without the water I hand him. From the corner of my eye I see the concerned face of my eldest. I'm not sure whether we're dealing with the whole situation in the right way. Maybe his state requires other – better measure; but which one?

"Can I go now? I feel a little tired." Ryan asks.

"First we need to talk about what happened last evening." My husband says.

"Not necessary. Everything's solved now." Ryan replies and then heads to the pool house. I'd known that making him take the antidepressants won't be easy, but this reaction is in somehow shocking. I want to follow him. I don't want him to get away with such a sentence without explaining it to us and without having listened to our explanation.

"I think someone has a hard time to warp his head around what had been said yesterday evening." My son says. Oh yeah.

"Seth, your Mom and I are just tired in the moment. This has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault or Ryan's. It's just the sum of things. Sophie that needs all our attention, Ryan physically and mentally depends on us and you – of course – feel neglected. It's just a lot at once to take care of. Added to that Ryan isn't making it that easy for us. We just need a break." My husband says.

In the afternoon I go to the pool house. Ryan's sitting on the bed, reading.

"Ryan, we have to go. You have an appointment at the doctor." I say. He looks up.

"I thought I was grounded." He answers. His mood is bad – really bad.

"Right, but this has nothing to do with your doctor's appointment." I answer. I won't let him getting me down only by his mood swings. I'm glad that this will have an end soon. I can't deal with this anymore. The boy gets up and takes his crutches. I miss the ability to be a mother for him; but right now it's just impossible. I should feel sorry for his current situation, but right now I don't feel anything but anger about both my boys. Their inability to behave like – at least like nearly mature human beings, is driving me insane. I go to the car and he slowly follows me. I see how he struggles to get into the Rover. I should have taken the BMW. I can't change it anymore.

The ride to the doctors is silent and the atmosphere is awfully tensed. We don't have to wait too long. Well, Ryan doesn't have to wait too long. I wait for him in the waiting area. I don't need to be with him. He's old enough. Also, I'm afraid the tensed atmosphere might explode in there and this would be too embarrassing. The door opens and Ryan slowly comes out, followed by the doctor. I get up.

"It's nothing alarming. Only a chest cold, but this should go by with plenty of rest and fluids." The doctor says.

"That's good news. Thank you doctor." I say and then take Ryan with me. The ride back home is as strained as the ride to the doctor shad been. When we arrive at home Ryan disappears in the pool house. We haven't spoken a word. We have been together for one and a half hour and we haven't spoken one single word to each other.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N.: **Thanks to my very nice Beta and for all the nice reviews

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**15.**

I have a bad conscience. Now everybody is blaming Ryan. This whole thing had been my fault. I mean, I've said all these things. I hadn't been there when Ryan had needed help. I let him walk home. Somehow it wasn't fair that my parents were blaming him. Okay, our parents. I got it. I need to do something about it. If they start to drug Ryan again, he's even less fun when he's …sober or clean or however it is called. Tell them the truth. That's a good idea and probably very efficient; but no, that's not good at all. Then everybody would blame me and I'm not ready for that. I couldn't handle it. I'm not a tough guy. I need a plan. I need someone who can make up a plan. I need Ryan. I go out to the pool house. Ryan's lying in bed. He's lying in bed? Hell, it's early afternoon. He should be up and doing whatever he used to do.

"Hey Ryan." I say when I step in. There's no response. He's lying under his covers and doesn't even move. I'm sure he has heard me. I usually only need to put one foot into the pool house and he wakes up.

"C'mon man, I know that you aren't sleeping." I say and drop down on the bed. There's still no response, no movement, nothing. He's feigning death. I shake him.

"Ryan, stop the shit. This is an emergency."

"mmm." It comes from somewhere under the covers.

"Shit Ryan, stop fooling me. This isn't funny at all!" I'm annoyed. I hate it when Ryan starts to ignore me. He's so aggressive by doing so. He can really hurt someone just by ignoring this someone. This isn't funny at all.

"Seth…'m tired." He only mumbles and then crawls deeper under the covers. This is enough. I get up and pull the blankets away. Why does he need more than one? It's summer and I already sweating under one blanket like a beast.

"That's not funny." Ryan says when I've pulled all blankets away from him. He looks at me and I can say he looks very…drugged. His eyes are dazed. I don't like this look, but when the 'rents say it's good for Ryan, they're right.

"Ryan, I need to talk to you." I say and again sit down, this time next to him. "We need to sort this mess out. You know what I mean? The 'rents are just a little too paranoid right now and we need to find a solution to make them laid back again, as they used to be." I start to talk. Ryan's just looking at me. I'm not sure whether he's even listening to me.

"I mean it's obvious that they're stressed, but it's not fair that they're blaming us for that." I start to explain him.

"They're not blaming us for being stressed, only for adding unnecessary additional problems to those already there." Ryan answers. I don't get the point. Where's the difference?

"Maybe; but fact is: they're blaming us and that's not fair. I mean we didn't ask them for getting another child, did we?" I ask him. This had been the decision from the 'rents. They can't say they didn't know about the outcome of this decision, because they already raised a child. They damn well knew what happens when another little baby enters the family. This brings me to the conclusion that only the 'rents are to be blamed for this misery. Before Soph everything had been smooth and calm and when she occurred here, everything became a chaos.

"Seth, stop it. I won't listen to you when you start this kind of speech." Ryan says. Hey, I've hit a nerve and I thought they were drugged numb with antidepressants.

"Yes but…"

"Seth, I'm not listening to you. You'd rather be grateful that your parents take good care of Soph. It would be hell, if it was different." What's wrong with him?

"But…"

"Seth, stop it." He says. The only advantage of him being on drugs is that he stays calm, nearly numb about all this. It's like he says what he has to say, without feeling the same. Okay, he doesn't want to listen to me then I have to force him to listen to me. I take the monkey.

"Could you put it back again?" He asks. No, I won't. I want his rage. I want to make him angry. He doesn't think clearly right now and I know that's the drug's effect. I need his clear thoughts. This foggy shit is just so not Ryan.

"No, first you stop being like this." Ryan closes his eyes.

"Please Seth." He says. I feel rage boiling in my stomach. I can't stand this calm-guy-attitude. He's not like that. He's the one with the temper when he's being provoked.

"No. I want you to tell me what you really think." I tell him.

"I did so already, or didn't you listen to me?" This fucking bastard. Now he turns everything to make me being the bad boy in this game. I feel the lump of anger increasing in my stomach, and I'm not sure whether I can control it any longer.

"Fuck you Ryan. You're such an asshole. You just want to make me feel bad about all this. You want to shift the guilt on me. That's why you're talking like that!"

"Do you want to know why I'm doing all this? I tell you why. When I've been eleven my Mom got pregnant again and nine months later she gave birth to a little girl she named Jessica. The problem was that my Mom was too much of an alcoholic and junkie; as if she was able to take care of her. I took care of her, changing nappies, feeding her, getting up at night. It was easy, because it had been vacation. When I got back to school I still took care of her in the morning and at night. During the lunch break I tried to go home to feed her and stuff. One day I couldn't do so, because I had to prepare a project for chemistry classes. When I came home after school Jess lay in her crib, face in the pillow. She wasn't breathing anymore and when I took her out of the crib I could see the blue marks on her arms. I'd no clue what to do and took her to the hospital, as if they could've done anything. She was dead. My Mom had shaken her to death and this only because I couldn't make it home during lunch break. Now you know what Sophie means to me and I hope this satisfies your nosey animus." He stops. No, it doesn't satisfy me, because this isn't what I wanted to hear.

"Stop all this pity stuff, it might work with the 'rents, but not with me. You're such an asshole, trying to make everybody having a bad conscience by telling all your whiny stories." I only answer. I want to show him how unimpressed I am by his little story.

"If you're done with insulting me, could you please put the monkey back?" He says. He sounds absolutely numb and emotionless while saying this.

"Shit Ryan, stop it!" I scream at him. He doesn't react. He just stands there and looks at me.

"Okay, you want to play the cool and calm guy? Let's see if you're still calm and cool when I'm doing this." I'm not thinking about what I'm doing. I rip off one arm of the monkey and throw it in Ryan's direction.

"Still cool man?" I ask him. He only sits down and shakes his head. This only drives me more insane. I rip of a leg and throw it in his direction; the other arm and throw it in his direction; the last limb and throw it in his direction. Now Ryan's surrounded by all the limbs. He doesn't give any reaction. I throw the rest of the monkey at his head.

"Are you satisfied now?" He only asks.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" I scream at him. The door to the pool house flies open.

"What the hell is happening in here?" My Mom asks; then she spots the tattered monkey. "Oh no, you haven't!" She screams at… Ryan. Now my Mom is angry and I'm afraid to step in. I don't want to be her aim of rage, because the 'rents have developed to be cruel when they're angry.

"Ryan, that's not funny anymore! Can you explain me why you did this?" She screams at him. He only shrugs his shoulders. Of course he can't tell her why he'd done it, because it had been me.

"I want an answer!" She screams at him and starts shaking him violently. I should tell her to stop, but I can't. I'm too afraid. I can't even tell her the truth, because seeing how she goes postal on Ryan makes me frighten how it would end up, if it was me. I'm her son, what means she won't show any compassion.

"You know what? I start not to look forward the vacations if I know I'll have to share it with you and your moods." She says, calmer and leaves. Ryan sits there, motionless. He hadn't reacted in anyway. This wasn't good at all. I look at Ryan.

"Look…man…I…this wasn't planed to end up like that." I tell him. I don't want him to be angry at me.

"'s okay." He answers and collects the tattered parts of the monkey.

"How can this be okay? You earned the reprimand that should've been regarded to me." I say, but there's nothing.

"Just don't care, alright?" He says. That's my keyword to leave. I feel so awfully bad. I'm the reason for Mom folding Ryan flat.

In the evening we all sit at the dinner table. Well, not all. Ryan's not there. My Mom must be really upset, if she doesn't even go to get him for dinner. She's really pissed, because not eating with the family is not happening here. This is such a no-go. Why does Mom break these rules?

"Shell I go and get Ryan" I ask her carefully. I don't want her to go postal on me only because I want to be polite.

"No. He can eat later." My Mom says. I look at my Dad whose glance says: I don't know, but leave it with that. I can't take this anymore.

"Mom, because of later…"

"Don't even start talking about that. I'm finished with that." She says.

"But…"

"Stop it Seth!" I shut up.

Later that evening I go and bring Ryan a plate of food. I really feel bad about him being imprisoned in the pool house.

"Hey Ryan, I brought you something to eat." I say. I've never felt that bad. I didn't know one could feel that awful. I hate me. I never hated me. It used to be the others I hated. It used to be the others making mistakes, but this time it had been me who'd made a mistake. I feel so awfully bad.

"'m not hungry." He mumbles. Why the heck is he sleeping again? He's sleeping the whole day. This can't be healthy.

"Yeah, but Mom is already pissed. I won't try and make it even worse." I reply. He'd better start to be Mom's favourite; otherwise I see no chance to straighten this situation out again.

"Shit." He says and gets up.

"Okay, I'll come back and bring this back into the house. Mom said we both have to stay separated as measure of punishment. I think she wants to be sure that these pills start to kick in." I let him know and then leave him again. I don't like the whole situation.

I wait half an hour and then go back. Ryan's not there, but I doubt he ran again; thus only the bathroom remains as possible option. I hear the flush. I wait, but Ryan doesn't come out.

"Ryan? Are you okay?" I ask him. A stupid question. He's throwing up, what means he can't feel good. I hear the flush again.

"Ryan?" I ask again, but I don't get any answer. I wait. Ryan comes out. He's pale.

"Hey, are you okay? Do you need anything?" I ask him. He shakes his head. Maybe I should tell Mom. No better not. I'd rather tell Dad. He seems to be still calm enough.

"Okay, then…I'm off." I say and go back into the house. I see Dad, but he's absorbed in his newspaper and I don't want to disturb him. He's the only normal person in this household. Besides Ryan has said he doesn't want anything and acting against his will can only lead to pain. I better remain here and do nothing. This is the best way of not upsetting anyone.

The rest of the week passes by uneventful. Mom doesn't talk to Ryan a lot. Only when she feeds him with his pills she says something like: take these. Ryan doesn't fight this anymore. He only obeys and swallows his pills. He becomes more and more unresponsive. It's like he's totally numb. No matter what I say to him, he never flies into rage; he never starts laughing; and crying never had happened anyway. These pills drain all emotions out of him and I'm pretty sure that this isn't good, but I can't change anything. Mom goes with me to buy new sailing cloths. It's a nice afternoon we spend. Ryan remains in the back of my head. I have messed it up and I have to sort this out, but not now. The day had been too nice, as if I want to destroy it now. I help Mom with her preparations for our vacations. I'm so excited. I can't remember the last time I felt excited like that. I'm sure I've never been that excited before. If I'd been, I should remember, right? I don't remember anything, meaning nothing. I don't see Ryan a lot. He stays in the pool house most of the time. The only person who dares to enter this cage is Dad. My Mom went in once, to pack Ryan's bag.

Finally. Finally it's Friday morning three o'clock. The time of the journey. I couldn't sleep only for one second. I have been too nervous. I had to go through my list whether I have everything. We all meet in the kitchen. Ryan really looks worn out. No matter how long he sleeps, he usually looks as if he doesn't sleep at all. He's pale and has dark circles under his eyes. He's leaning on his crutches. He's still not allowed to put any weight on his leg. Nice. I already know who'll have to carry the whole luggage; but it'll be worth it. I can't wait to jump into a boat and sail through the rough sea of the northern coast.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N.: **A very big THANK YOU to my beta-reader who still didn't get tired of my stories and thanks for the nice reviews. I decided now it's time to enter the up-hill-path ;)

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**16.**

Now we're sitting in the plane that's on its way to Europe. My wife has our youngest on her lap. She doesn't bother. She used to do so when Seth had been young like that. I admire her for being capable of that for so many hours. I couldn't do so. She's reading her book. For her the vacations have already started. She can read her book; drink her tea and being occupied with our little daughter. Not having to go to the office is enough to give her the vacation feeling. My eldest is busy watching a movie they show here. He's relaxed and excited in the same time. He reminds me of when he was younger. He used to be excited like that about new things.

Only my youngest son once again gives reason to worry. Already this morning I've noticed that something was wrong with him. He'd been unusually pale. Now he sits in his seat, curled together as small as possible and from this distance I can see him shivering. I get up and go over to him.

"Hey kid." I say. He's deep asleep. I shake him gently. I feel his body tremble under my touch. He slowly opens his eyes and looks confused at me. His eyes are dazed and dull. It seems as if nothing is right. No matter what decision we make, it's the wrong one.

"Are you freezing?" I ask him. He only nods. "You don't feel well, are you?" I ask him. I don't get a response. Instinctive my hand feels his forehead. I'm shocked by the heat radiating from him. No wonder that he looks awful – he probably feels like that too.

"Kid, you're burning up. Why didn't you say anything this morning?" I ask him. He only shrugs his shoulders. He's even less responsive than he used to be. The only approach these pills led to are his controlled emotions. There are no outburst, no quick changes. His emotions more or less remain the same: indifferent. It's not difficult to control something that's not there anyway. I go back to my seat and take a pullover out of the storage above.

"Do you have some Tylenol?" I ask my wife. The boy needs relief otherwise he won't survive this journey.

"Yes, do you have a headache?" She asks me back, looking up from her book.

"No, it's not for me; but I guess Ryan's sleepover at the beach has left some marks." I answer her.

"Has he a fever?" She asks me. I nod. Her look wanders over to the shivering form next to our eldest son. Her attention now his fully drawn back to her son. No wonder, she's already relaxed. There's no bothering job waiting for her.

"I'll get it and take it to him." She says. I go to the boy.

"Here, pull this over." I say. He hesitatingly takes the pullover, but finally puts it on. He's still shivering, but I hope that it'll bring some relieve by the time we land.

"Here, can you take her for a minute?" My wife asks and places Soph in my arms. Her body is warm, her skin is soft. I'm astonished about how calm she's stayed during the whole flight. My wife feels Ryan's forehead.

"Oh, honey, why haven't you said that you don't feel well?" She asks him and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Can I have a cup of water please?" She asks a stewardess. "Seth can we switch seats, please?" She asks our eldest.

"Yeah, sure." He says. He looks a little confused. "Thanks." My wife takes the cup from the stewardess.

"Here take these." She hands Ryan two pills and the water. He takes it without questioning it. He looks miserable. I gently rock Soph up and down. She's sleeping. I wish my two other children could be as peaceful as she is. On the other hand, I know when she enters teenage life she'll have to live through the whole drama herself. This is the way life goes. When they're tiny, young kids they don't recognise any of the drama surrounding them. If they're between not being mature, but not tiny and young anymore, the drama hits them harder as it's in reality is; and when they finally reach the step of full maturity , they'll have to live life without us being able to protect them. We have to enjoy the time we have with Soph as long as she is in the state of being tiny and young. The other time runs by too fast.

"Ryan, you have to drink more, especially when you're in a plane and sick." My wife says and hands him a cup of coke.

"Sorry, but…I don't think I can drink right now." He stammers. I look at my son who sighs in annoyance and then puts on his headphones and watches on the movie. I need to talk to him about his behaviour – very soon!

"Please…we have a long trip ahead from us and I don't want you to torture yourself more than necessary." My wife says to him. He takes the cup and takes small sips. There's something in the atmosphere that tells me that this isn't over yet. There's something coming up to us. I look at my wife and her glance tells me she feels the same. She gently rubs the boy's arm. He's still shivering.

"Excuse me sir, are there any problems?" A stewardess asks concerned.

"No…well yes, he has a cold or something and doesn't feel too well right now." I explain her.

"Is there something I can do for you?" She asks. The advantage of first class: they treat you friendly and like human beings. Okay, Ryan wouldn't have been able to fly in the other way. He can't bend his knee right now. He needs the space.

"Maybe a blanket and a tea could be helpful." I tell her. I want to ease whatever is torturing the boy.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second." She says and then disappears. I watch the boy, who suddenly tries to gets up from the seat, but has to struggle for balance, as he can't put any weight onto his knee. He sways awfully and I feel the urge to help him, but can't because Soph is sleeping in my arms. My wife gets up to help him.

"Ryan, what's wrong?" She asks him. I see how he swallows. That doesn't look good. I wished that his first transatlantic flight was more a nice experience as it seems to be right now.

"'m…sick." He manages to say.

"Here take this…" My wife hands him one of the bags, but he only looks at her. I give Sophie back to her.

"I'll help you kid." I say and Ryan slowly manages his way to the lavatories. He's even more unstable on the crutches in the plane and I admire him for his capability of controlling his body that well. I'm sure I already would've made a mess over the whole floor. It's his pride not allowing showing this kind of weakness in front of others. I'm sad he hasn't learned yet that being physical ill has nothing to do with being weak, but with being a human being. On the other hand the last few days had been more of a fight for all of us and he has gotten some lectures to listen to. I feel bad that it was him, who was hit by my wife's and my own stress. We should've talked to him, but we didn't. He needs to know that we didn't mean what we'd said; but it had seemed so hard to explain it to him at the moment. We just wanted to survive the last few days before our vacations without any deaths. It shouldn't have been him. We know that he can't take this kind of stress, but we haven't paid attention. In somehow I feel as we're to be blamed for the set back as well. We haven't been able to provide him the stable environment he needs. I knock on the door.

"Is everything okay in there?" This is the most stupid question one can ask when it's obvious that nothing is okay. I don't get a response. I don't care that the people look at me as if I was an alien. I wait. I worry. I'm worried.

"Ryan, kid, if it's not getting better you have to come out again and…I'm sure Kirsten has something to make your stomach feel better." I say. I still don't get a response and I feel the urge to break the door open. I have to be patient. Since Ryan takes these pills again, he isn't the fastest in anything anymore. How I regret the decision we've made about this. Finally I hear the door getting unlocked. Ryan limps out slowly. I give him he crutches back.

"Better?" I ask him.

"Not really." He answers. His voice is hoarse and I'm afraid. I place a hand between his shoulder blades and guide him carefully back to his seat.

"Honey, do you feel better?" Ryan only shakes his head. I feel that especially between him and my wife the situation is strained. I hope we'll survive this trip without further damage.

"Here take these. They'll help to let your stomach settle. They'll make you a little sleepy, but you feel better if you take them." She hands him two other pills. I don't even want to think of how many pills he'd already had to take the last few months. I can't take it anymore, watching him taking all these monsters. I want to change it. I want to find another solution for him, but I can't seem to find one. Ryan – the boy who was too mature for his age, but with the heart in the right place – is fading, with every single pill; but letting him suffer instead? He takes them. He'd stopped asking what he's taking. He knows otherwise Kirsten would make him take them. I don't think it's a good approach that your kid obeys like a well educated dog and doesn't question anything. We'll have to make use of these vacations to find out what really can help and what not. I don't want Ryan to be like that anymore.

My wife tucks Ryan into the blanket. His eyes are already closed. I had a better feeling about him when he'd been healthy, strong and rebellious. Right now he seems to be only a remaining shell of what he used to be, and I doubt this is only linked to the accident and the trouble that had come up to us the last few months. Right, this is only my opinion and I don't have a psychological degree; but I have three kids now – one of them I watched growing up – I know what's normal and what's not and I, more important ly, know my kids. I can say what's bothering them. No, I can't. Right now I know that there's something between my both sons; something that's bothering them. What it is? I can't tell.

The rest of the flight goes more or less uneventful. Ryan sleeps the whole time. It's noon when we arrive at the airport. Seth and I take care of the luggage while Ryan's sitting on one of the benches. He looks really, awfully sick. I watch my wife feeding him with a new dosage of pills. I still don't like it, but if they help him to feel at least a little better, I shouldn't complain about it. We go out to our rented car. My eldest, my wife and our youngest head forward, whereas I follow slowly with my youngest in tow. He hasn't the strength to keep up the speed with the others. I watch him like a hawk, prepared to support him if he loses his remaining strength. We manage it to the car. I help him into the back seat. It'd be better if he sat in the front; but he wants to sleep.

"Seth, can you pull your seat a little further to the front, thus Ryan can have a little more space for his leg?" I ask my son.

"Sure." He says. He's still excited and he doesn't look tired at all. He can handle travelling really well. I help Ryan into the back row. My wife had placed our little daughter in the middle of the back row. She leans over to tuck Ryan in a blanket.

"Mom, is this our beach-cover?" He asks.

"Yes it is; that you can still remember it." My wife answers astonished. I hadn't expected him remembering it either; but I hadn't expected him remembering our holidays in Föhr either, so I shouldn't worry about it. No, I'm rather happy having given nice memories to my son – memories of his childhood.

"Ew…that's gross. Did you forget the time when I had my first bread roll with fish?"

"Seth…no…I don't think Ryan wants…" I want to interrupt him, but stopping my son when he has started is impossible.

"I tell you Ryan, be careful with these bastards. They tell you everything is fresh, but five minutes after you've finished it, your stomach plays rollercoaster with you. Up and down, up and down, until you can't keep it anymore. It was so embarrassing. We've been at the beach and Dad wanted to show my how to fly a kite. So I got up and then my stomach cramped and everything landed onto the cover. Everybody was looking at me and…"

"Ryan, don't worry. This cover had been in the laundry several times until today." My wife says.

"I don't think he'd even listened to what Seth had said." I point at the sleeping form in the backseat – hidden under the cover.

"Oh sweetie." My wife says and brushes his bangs out of his face. "I'm so sorry for him that he can't enjoy the trip as we can." She says. She had started to be a mother again. It had taken a while and I'm not sure whether Ryan was or is able to understand that even parents can be overtaxed without wanting to hurt their kids. I doubt that after all that has happened he can really think of us as his family – not after the fight that we still have to sort out. We'd wanted to talk to him about it, but he'd blocked it every time and we just gave up on this topic. We've already waited too long. We need to do something about this. I start the car. I enjoy the green and flat landscape as well as the fact that I can drive faster than in the states.

"Hey, enjoying the fresh see air?" I ask my wife when I meet her in a lonely second on the ferry. My son starts to take care of his sister and it's a nice feeling that he likes it – a feeling of pride.

"Hmm" She answers me. She looks at me and her eyes tell me that she's happy to be here; that she's happy to be able to relax; that she's happy to have some time out.

"You know that we have to talk to him eventually and since we haven't managed doing so at home then we'll have to do so when we've arrived – as soon as possible. I don't want this ruining our holidays and – more importantly, I want to give Ryan the security that we're still his family and that these things weren't meant although they were said. He needs to know that." I tell her and her face turns concerned.

"I know. It's just so hard. I've made so many mistakes the last few days, especially regarding to him that I don't know where to start this conversation. I…of course I still love him…but can you explain me why he ripped off the monkey?" She asks me. I can't, because I can't believe that Ryan would do something like that. He would scream some very hurtful things at us, run away and at the end get drunk – that's Ryan. I can't imagine he would damage things just like that. This doesn't match him.

"I can't. I still can't believe that he has done it…I mean…"

"Who else would it have been? I'm eager to believe him when he'll say that he didn't intend to hurt us, but he's so only one who hated this…monkey enough to do something like that. Yes, but we'll talk to him and sort this out." She says. I know she doesn't want to argue, neither do I.

"Where is he anyway?" I ask her.

"In the car – sleeping. " She says. I only nod. I feel bad that we can't do anything to bring him some relief.

"He's really sick, is he?" I ask her. She's more experienced in things like that than I am.

"Yes, and I'm upset that the doctor hadn't seen this coming. He said something about a chest cold, plenty of rest and liquids should help."

"Well, first thing when we arrive is sending him to bed. He doesn't have to wait too long anyway. See…there's the landscape." I point to the horizon where a small line of land appears.

"I can't wait to make it ourselves cosy in the house. It's the one with the thatch roof and at the beach,"

"That's great…hey where do you wanna go?" I ask her.

"See whether he had drunken enough." She says and goes back to the car. I follow her. Ryan lies on the backseats and sleeps.

"Hey honey." My wife says when she opened the door.

"mmm" Is the only response.

"You need to drink something. It's important especially now." She says. Ryan struggles into an upright position.

"Is your stomach better?" I ask him. He nods. He is even less of a talker than he used to.

"At least some improvement." I answer. He takes a few small sips from a bottle of water my wife has handed to him.

"Can I get you something to eat? You haven't had anything in hours." My wife says. "You need something."

"No…I doubt that my stomach is already that much settled that he could bear any food." He says. I see how he clenches his jaw and I wish he would start to talk to us when he doesn't feel well.

"Is your knee hurting?" I ask him. We haven't paid a lot attention to it these last days. Shit. To what did we pay attention anyway? Probably he was in pain all the last days and nobody had noticed. I close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose. We need to change something – anything.

"Ryan you really need to tell us when you're in pain. It's not reasonable being in more pain than necessary." I tell him. I know right now, we're to be blamed for this. We haven't paid attention to anything after the accident. The only thing we took care of had been our youngest – we weren't able to handle our elder kids with all their problems. In facts: I'm watching how we are failing our kids.

"Here take these." My wife hands him another tow pills. He takes them. I watch his eyes are slowly shutting.

"You want to go back to sleep, do you?" My wife asks and he nods. "Okay, soon you can sleep in a real bed, I promise." She says; pecks his forehead and then he crawls back under the cover and closes his eyes. I still can't bear seeing him like that. I'm not used to thinking of him as a vulnerable and fragile child. Indeed he is. We have forgotten about it too often. We still forget about it.

After another two hours we finally arrive at the house my wife had booked. It is huge and beautiful. The brick walls are tainted in white and you can hear the waves. A path leads from the backyard to the beach. My eldest and I get the luggage inside. Well, first I need to help my youngest inside. He can barely to stand up. If I'd been able to I would have given him more support; but the only thing I could do was placing a hand gently between his shoulder blades – only slightly not to hurt the skin on his back - and let him know that I was there in case his legs would finally give in. Fortunately they don't. I guide him to a couch and he slowly sinks into the cushions.

"Just a few more minutes and you can go to bed." I tell him. He only nods. I watch how his eyes slowly slide shut. Poor boy. This wasn't supposed to happen. I go upstairs, where my wife is already busy making the beds – ours and Sophie's.

"Uhm…Kirsten…"

"Don't worry I told Seth to make the beds of both of them." She answers and smiles at me. "You're worrying a lot, do you?" She asks me.

"He's not feeling well and you know when he doesn't even fight us hovering, he really must feel bad. I can't imagine that he'd behaved like that even after the car accident." The boy's behaviour starts to worry me a lot. This isn't him anymore. A little less rejecting; a little less combative, this is what we agreed to, but not to this: passive.

"I know what you mean. Maybe it takes a little until his body responds properly to the medication." My wife says. It's awful how we cling to this medication, hoping it might help us. I'm well aware that it drifts him only further away from us. I go to see how far my eldest is. He's sitting on a bed that's only half made.

"Hey Seth, need a hand?" I ask him. He looks a little overtaxed with the blanket.

"Uh…yes, would be good." He answers and gets up. I hand him the cloth. "So what are we up to tonight?" My son asks. He's so eager to enjoy his vacations.

"I think we should stay here tonight. You can come with us to get the groceries." I tell him.

"But we used to go out the night we arrived." He says. I'm sorry for him that we can't stick to our usual traditions, but I don't want to force our youngest to more than he can handle.

"I know, but Ryan's really sick. He needs to rest. Otherwise he'll miss the whole fun all the six weeks." I try to explain him.

"Can't he just brace himself? Shit, he just has a cold, why is it a problem? He'll survive it." He tells me.

"Seth, stop it. Your brother is really sick. He's drugged to his eyeballs with Tylenol, painkillers and antidepressants. I think this is enough reason to give him the rest he needs." I tell him. I stay calm. I don't want to scream; not now and if possible never again.

"What's wrong with you two?" My wife comes in. I look at her.

"Ryan's already ruining the vacation that's wrong." My son says and runs out the room.

"That's really great for a start." My wife says.

"And what now?" I ask her. I don't want my eldest to be mad, but I also don't want to expose my youngest to more he can take.

"First getting Ryan to bed and then we'll see." She says. We make the beds and then I go back downstairs, helping Ryan up to settle him in his bed.

"You can go out tonight if you want to." He says into the silence. I close my eyes. He wasn't supposed to hear all this. He'd already listened to too much that he wasn't supposed to.

"Sweetie, but you don't feel to…" My wife tries to intervene.

"Doesn't matter. Just go out. I'll sleep anyway, so nothing to worry about." He only says. He hasn't even seen anything around the place here and now he wants us to go out, having fun while he's sick in bed. This doesn't sound right somehow.

"Are you really okay with that?" My wife asks him, looking confused at me.

"I wouldn't have suggested it." He says. I don't have to explain why I don't believe this.

"But only if you're really okay with it." I say.

"It's okay." He says.

"Would you mind if we leave Soph with you?" My wife asks. I don't know whether I think this is a good idea. The boy should worry about himself in first place, not about his little sister. Anyway we know what had happened the last time when he had to watch his sister while he didn't feel too good.

"Sure, when you leave her upstairs. I don't think I can manage the steep stairs alone."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N.: **Sorry for the delay, but I'm awfully busy right now. A BIG FAT THANK YOU to my BETA and Another one for all the nice reviews ;)

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**17.**

When we come home the lights are all out in the house. We've been at the beach and walked along the promenade. We've found out that our favourite restaurant still exists, and the food is still amazing there. Seth is already swept off his feet. He has a huge schedule of what-to-do. I'm tired and a little sad that our other kids couldn't enjoy the evening with us. I try to relieve my bad conscience with saying that there are a lot of evenings to follow.

It's a mild night. Of course it's not as hot as in California, but the soft wind makes it comfortable and cosy. Yes, tomorrow I'll lie on the beach with my book and my little daughter and just enjoy me free time. That'll be great and I'm sure we can take Ryan with us.

"I go and check on our two remains." I say and go upstairs. The stairs are really too steep for his crutches. I should've thought of this. I doubt he would've been able to climb up those even without them. When I check in his room he's gone and I feel a shock for a second, but I know he'd never leave our daughter on her own. I check in our bedroom. There he sits on our bed, leant against the headrest, with Sophie on his chest, sound asleep – both of them. I gently take Sophie from his chest. Her big blue eyes shoot open immediately and I see her lips move – a smile. I put her in her crib and then go back to Ryan, who's still asleep.

"Hey sweetie." I stroke over his cheek. It's still hot from fever and my bad conscience increases as I doubt it had been a good idea leaving him alone here.

"mmm." He answers and slowly opens his eyes. "Kirsten?" His voice is hoarse; probably from too much rough coughing.

"You should lie down. It's already late and you need your rest." I tell him.

"But…where…oh shit…sorry …I…I didn't mean to…" He throws his legs over the edge. A deep groan tells me, his knee didn't like that movement.

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's okay. Don't hurry." I try to sooth him. He sways when he stands on his feet…foot. I hand him his crutches.

"Did you have a nice evening?" He asks me and I wish we hadn't. What shell I say? If I say yes it might hurt him, because he might think we more like to be out without him. If I say no I would annoy my other boy and lie.

"Was nice, but would have been nicer if you'd been with us." I answer. He nods and then slowly makes his way to his bed opposite to our room. He sits down.

"May I have a look onto your knee?" I ask him. It had started bothering him more than usual. He slowly pulls the leg of his sweatpants up. I know when he uses his brace and when not. I don't know how I know, but I do. I look at his knee and it's again badly swollen.

"Do you need some ice for it?" I ask him.

"No." And only now I realise that he's shivering.

"Oh, sweetie. You're that cold?" I ask him. He nods again. This isn't good. "Wait here and I'll fetch you some warmer cloths." I tell him. I can't let him freeze through the whole night. He needs to be kept warm. I come back and hand him a pair of sweatpants and a grey pullover.

"Take these. These are Sandy's, maybe a little too long, but they keep you warm."

"But what if…"

"Don't worry, Sandy won't freeze." I tell him and he starts changing without even bothering asking me out or going to the bathroom. I can see the scar on his calf – the one he got in the first months we met him; and there are the others: the scars from the surgeries on his leg – the remains from the accident. I hand him the hoodie. It's Sandy's Berkeley hoodie. He pulls it over his t-shirt. Then he climbs into the bed. I tuck him in. I'm glad that there were these thick blankets. I drop a throw over him as well – the one I use to bring when I'm travelling.

"That's better?" I ask him.

"Yes, thank you." He replies, turns to his side and closes his eyes.

"And tomorrow we'll go to the beach. You'll see. The air here will make you feel better in no time." I promise him. I feel so bad that he has to spend the beginning of the holidays sick. I peck him goodnight and then exit the room.

The next morning or better noon comes around. Both my sons are sound asleep. I go and wake them up, while Sandy is preparing the breakfast – a real family breakfast: all sitting together at one table. I make my way to my eldest. He's sprawled all over his bed; the blanket intertwined between his legs.

"Hey, sweetie." I say and sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Mom, I'm tired…you know jetlag and stuff." He says and buries his head under a pillow.

"You're young and besides it'd been your idea to get out last night, so you have to dance to the music you've ordered." I tell him.

"Is Ryan already up?" He asks me sleepy.

"Nope." I say and shake him a little. He starts to groan in annoyance.

"Why don't you wake him first?"

"Because I started with you, and Ryan's sick." I answer him. I won't allow him to play his jealousy-games any longer with us.

"He's always sick." He mumbles and turns to his other side - back towards me.

"And he didn't choose to be. Believe me." I don't want him talking like that any longer. They are brothers and they are supposed to behave like that.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbles and gets up. I watch him disappearing into the bathroom. We definitely have to talk to him about this behaviour. It's hurting me and I'm sure my husband too. He's blaming us for a decision we can't undo, and don't want to undo. We all knew that Ryan would need help and we all agreed in providing him this help. If we'd agreed to it, if we had known how hard it would be? I don't even want to think about this question. It's reducing our younger son to a bunch of problems. This is all going to be more difficult as I wish it to be. I make my way to his room. He's hidden under the thick blanket and the throw. A few strands of hair are all I can see of him.

"Hey honey: time to get up." I sit down on the edge of the bed and pull the blanket a little down, so that I can see his face. His eyes are still closed and he's deep asleep. I stroke over his cheek. It's warm; I can't say whether from fever or from the warmth beneath the blanket.

"Ryan, you have to wake up, if you want some good breakfast." I tell him. I feel his body slowly move under the blankets.

"Not hungry." He answers. His voice is hoarse and sounds even worse than last night. I sigh. I'm afraid that his cold might get any worse. He shouldn't spend all the time in bed. These are his vacations too and he's supposed to see and try new things; but how can he when he's still awfully sick?

"You have to be. You haven't eaten anything the whole trip and that's more than one day without food. You must be starving by now." I say and pull the blanket down to his feet. He's curled up into a small ball and as soon as I take the blanket from him he starts shivering again.

"If you get up now you'll warm up sooner." I tell him. He starts coughing violently. No, this doesn't sound good.

"You're still sick, huh?" I state more than I ask. He only nods. "C'mon, you get up and you'll see you'll feel better then." I encourage him. I have to get him out of bed somehow. I can understand that he doesn't feel too well and that he isn't up to much activity, but he has to get some fresh salty air. I'm sure it'll help him – I want it to. He slowly sits up. He clenches his jaw. His body is really troubling him a lot lately. I hand him his crutches. He takes them and slowly makes it to the bathroom. He reaches it in time, when Seth comes out of it. There's no 'good morning'. They pass each other – nothing. There's definitely something wrong between the two of them and that something has to be sorted out – soon. I doubt that these are going to be relaxing vacations. There are too many things that need to be solved first, before we can start to relax.

It doesn't take long and we all sit together having breakfast. It's a nice sunny morning and we can sit in the backyard and watch the sea.

"So boys, what do you plan to do on your first day of vacation?" My husband asks the boys. My eldest is still busy devouring one bread roll with egg or prawns after another. He swallows.

"Well, I'll go and start sailing. I mean the wind is perfect today and the waves." My eldest answers.

"That's true. Maybe I should go and make use of them myself. A little bit of windsurfing would be nice." My husband replies. "And what do we do with Ryan?" He asks. He'd been quiet the whole morning. He'd been quiet since this journey had started. He'd even been quiet the whole week before.

"I'll take him to the beach where we can watch you and relax. I think that'll be the best for him right now, or do you have any other plans? Is there anything you want to see?" I ask him. I don't want to patronize him.

"Uh…no, beach sounds okay to me." He answers, followed by some coughing. He hasn't eaten as much as his elder brother, but he had eaten, and that's enough for a start. After I'm sure he's finished I hand him his antidepressants and he takes them. The usual fight about whether to take them or not has ceased. We'll see what the day comes up with. After breakfast Ryan helps me to clean the table – well cleaning the dishes - while the other boys are occupied with Sophie-duty.

"Do you at least feel a little better this morning?" I ask him whilst he hands me the last plates for the dish washer.

"Think so." He answers. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't even make the attempt to start a conversation. It's obvious that in the night of the kitchen-accident something broke between all of us, but I'm most afraid of what got broken between us and Ryan. It had been so difficult to build something up and I'm afraid we can't rebuild it again. He's making it so difficult having a relationship with him. I can't blame him for that. He has enough reasons to stay curious about things like that. I want to rub his upper arm to make him relax around me a little more; his body tenses up. I look at my husband who shrugs his shoulders. That's helpful, really. After we're finished with everything we start to pack the bags for the beach: food, drinks, magazines and books; everything you need for a relaxing day at the beach. Fortunately we don't live too far away from the harbour. My eldest can easily walk there and start his sailing adventure and my husband can go and rent a surfboard for windsurfing. I sit in a beach chair with Sophie on my lap and a book in my hand. I enjoy having time to read. My youngest is absorbed in a book as well; only disturbed by coughs that seem to become stronger with each time they escape his throat. I didn't know until now that the boy was reading that much. My glance wanders along the beach. There were a lot of families: little children playing in the sand, the older ones swimming in the sea, the fathers building sandcastles, the mothers watching their kids. It's in somehow idyllic. As my glance wanders like this across the beach I can make out a familiar form. My husband comes along the beach – heading towards us. I wave him to make him see us. He's waving back, to let me know he has spotted us.

"Hey you tow, how is it?" He asks us, before he kisses me.

"Relaxing." I answer. My youngest is too absorbed into his book to answer. My husband looks sternly at me and I know what he wants to say. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is the right time.

"Ryan, can we talk for a minute?" My husband asks him. The boy looks up from his book. He looks confused.

"About what? I'm taking the antidepressants as you want me to. I thought all problems are solved and everybody is happy now." He says. This sentence is hurting every fibre of my heart and it comes unexpected. Since when is he back being smug?

"Exactly this sentence is something we need to talk about." My husband goes on unimpressed. I look at him. He should do the talking. I can't right now. This sentence had hit me hard. It was sign for that there is more wrong than I had wanted to admit at the beginning.

"Kid, we know that things went a little haywire. Things were said and done, which we regret now and didn't mean then. Nobody wanted to hurt you that evening. The other thing …the other night…it's the same…those things were said, because we were overtaxed and stressed out. Nobody of us meant what was said, or at least not in the way it might have come out." My husband says. From my youngest facial expression I can say this speech remains unheard.

"And why exactly do people keep saying those things over and over again, if they don't mean them?" He only asks. I can see the twitch in his uninjured leg. If he could he would run off now, but the sand and his crutches are making this impossible.

"I don't know Ryan. If I had an explanation for why people behave the way they do, I probably would be the best lawyer in the universe; but I have none." My husband goes on.

"Whatever." Ryan answers and goes back to his book. He coughs several times and from the way he's coughing I can tell that something sticks tight in his chest – something that doesn't belong there.

"Ryan, don't tell me that you've planed to punish us the whole vacations with this mood." I intervene. Maybe I can help this situation out.

"I'm not punishing anyone." How can he turn from angel into devil in such a short time? I thought his moods were under control by now.

"And what do you call what you're doing? On the one hand you offer us to take care of Sophie, on the other hand this sentence? What is it supposed to mean?" I ask him. I have to knock some sense into his head. Actually I should start knocking some sense into me eldest's head as well. I don't want to know what's boiling in him.

"I'm just not into talking. These things were said, full stop." In his voice I can hear that he's getting more and more upset.

"Ryan, but we want you to understand that we didn't intend to hurt you with what we said." My husband replies.

"You already said that." Ryan answers.

"Yes, but we don't have the feeling as if you understood." I tell him. I'm getting upset again. Why can't he let us through to him? Things could be so much easier that way. He remains silent.

"Ryan, can you at least try to understand us?" My husband asks him; well aware that for Ryan things have a different meaning, than for the rest of us. He only nods.

"Would you like to tell me now what had happened that one day between you and Seth?" My husband asks on.

"I dunno…I…think Seth can explain it better to you." He only answers and then reaches for his book; the sign that the conversation is over now.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N.: **Sorry for my late updates, and a huge thanks to my beta and for all the nice reviews (although I'm having a bad conscience, because I'm not able to update faster)

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**18.**

I wake up. I hear someone coughing. Oh my God, that sounds as if he's coughing is lung into pieces. This time Ryan seems to be really sick – once again. I don't care. I turn around and try to sleep on. I hear fast footsteps running along the corridor. The coughing gets louder and more violent. Hell, he should have stayed home with this. This is going to ruin the whole vacation. Other footsteps – heavy ones – follow the fast ones. Eventually the coughing subsides and I can get back to sleep. I hear different footsteps going along the corridor. Not footsteps, it more sounds like Ryan's crutches. I can see the lights from underneath the door. I hear the bathroom door shut. The coughing goes on and…oh no. I pull the pillow tight over my ears. Hell, he should be able to keep his stomachs contents – he's old enough for that. Again footsteps. Hell, can't they just let him puke in peace? I'm sure Ryan's not eager to provide the 'rents a free show in this. Nothing. Silence. Nice. Now I can go back to sleep. I crawl deep under my blanket and cuddle into it.

"Sandy!" I hear my Mom screaming and I sit up like lightening. I open the door slightly and peek through it. I watch my father rush to the bathroom.

"Can you take him?" My Mom asks him. I can see something on her face I've never seen before; or something I've seen before and I don't like seeing it now again. Fear. Pure, naked fear is written all over her face.

"Is he having trouble breathing?" My father asks.

"Sounds like that." She only says.

"Do you know whether we can contact a doctor?" My father asks.

"I know someone, but we have to wait until tomorrow morning." I watch my father nod. Great, only trouble with Ryan.

"C'mon up kid…we need to get you back to bed." I watch me father trying to get Ryan from – probably the floor. Once up – I can see Ryan's head – he starts coughing again. I watch my father carefully helping Ryan sitting down on the top of the toilette. It takes several minutes until he stopped coughing.

"New attempt?" My father asks him and then helps him up again. He slowly guides him through the corridor and to his room. My Mom follows them with a wet cloth in her hand. When she passed me I follow her a little. I need to know what's going on here again.

"Here sweetie, that'll help against the headache." My Mom says. After a few minutes my parents come out of the room.

"He's burning up, Sandy. Someone should watch him over night. What if he has to throw up again?" My Mom really looks worried.

"Okay, I'll stay overnight with him, but you call a doctor first thing in the morning."

"Of course." My Mom answers. My Dad goes back into the room Ryan's in. Again I hear coughing – loud, violent and with a lot of force. I look at my Mom and she looks back at me.

"Seth, what are you doing up?" She asks me astonished. Why the fuck, does she think I'm up? Did she even listen to the noise they've been producing?

"I got woken up by all the noise around here." I answer her.

"Oh…I'm sorry sweetie." My Mom says and takes me into her embrace. "Go back to bed. Everything is okay now." My Mom says and strokes my hair. Again there are these violent coughs.

"Do you think he's okay?" I ask my Mom. I don't want to seem indifferent about what's going on.

"I think so. Don't worry about that." My Mom says.

"Kirsten…" My father comes out of Ryan's room. "I don't think that the doctor can wait until tomorrow morning." I can see worry on his face.

"I'm coming." My Mom says and then disappears in Ryan's room. I think this is my keyword to start to worry too.

"Yeah…uh…hello…excuse my late call…but my son…he's coughing awfully and his fever is climbing up …we can't seem to get it under control…" I guess I should look how my father and Ryan are. I go into the room. I meet my father's worried face.

"Seth, did we wake you up?" He asks. I only nod. "I'm sorry. Go back to bed. You deserve your sleep." My father says.

"No…it's okay…can…can I do anything?" I ask. It's never good if the parents have to call a doctor in the middle of the night – especially not if it's in a foreign country which language we don't speak. I watch over to the bed. Ryan is curled…well not really curled up, but he's tried to make himself as small as possible. His body is shaking violently.

"Right now, we can only wait." My father says and watches over to Ryan too. His body starts crump and he coughs again.

"Ryan…kid…you need to be careful…you're only hurting yourself more." My father tries to sooth him. Stupid. You can't sooth someone who feels the urge to rip out his lungs.

"Sandy…the doctor asked whether we can get him to his practice. " My Mom enters the room and asks my father.

"I don't know if I can get him downstairs and into the car." My father replies. That's not good.

"Uhm…I can give you a hand." I offer. I don't want the situation getting worse only because I didn't intervene and help.

"Okay, let's try." My father says. "Ryan, can you sit up? We need to get you downstairs." My father says. Ryan doesn't react.

"Ryan, sweetie…" My Mom leans over to him and brushes his hair out of his face. Ryan starts struggling into an upright position. He gets up, my father helps him. I hand him his crutches. He's slowly and insecure; I can see it. He slowly makes his way. My father has wrapped a hand around his waist to support him. We reach the stairs. My Mom takes the crutches and I go to the other side of Ryan and warp an arm around his waist as well. I underestimated his weight. If he's already this heavy, how heavy had he been before he lost all this weight? We need to be careful. Ryan doesn't look as if he realises much of what's going on around him. Somehow we manage to get him settled in the car.

"Can you keep an eye on your sister? I don't think she'll make a lot of problems, but just in case?"

"Uh…yes…sure." I answer. As if I would say 'no' in such a situation. I mean this is a clear emergency. I can't play the self-absorbed Seth now. I watch my parents drive off. I go back, but not to bed. I can't go to bed now. I can't, because I would fall asleep then and that would be so … inappropriate in this situation. I'm supposed to watch Sophie and I'm…Ryan's brother. I can't sleep over the fact that he might be really sick. He better is really sick otherwise I can't ensure for anything.

I sit down in the living room and zap through the TV channels, but I can't understand anything anyway. I go into my room and grab some of my comics and start reading them. I'm so absorbed into them that I don't notice how the time passes by. The door opens and my father's helping Ryan into the house. I jump up: ready to help with the stairs.

"And what did the doctor say?" I ask them. My father nods in my Mom's direction.

"Pneumonia, quite bad." She answers, her voice saturated with concern. My father and I help Ryan back into his room, back to bed. Ryan doesn't even lie properly in bed and he's already asleep.

"They've given him something against the fever." My father says when we leave Ryan in his bed. We go back to the living room. My Mom sits there in company with a man I've never seen before – properly the doctor.

"Mr. Cohen…I talked to your wife and…I've had another look at your son's chest x-rays. They really give a lot reason for concern. I'm afraid but…with this kind of infection he belongs to a hospital." Oh shit. This sounds worse than bad. I don't think they suggest hospital just for fun or as an unnecessary precaution measure, right? I don't know, but what I know is that it seems as if the vacations are pretty much over with this.

"And where's the hospital?" My father asks. Of course they don't have one here. This is a fucking island.

"On the mainland."

"And how to get him there?" My Mom asks. Yes, there's something that's called tide. They can't just put him onto a ship. If there's no water, there's no ship.

"I would call for a helicopter. That's the only way. The sea will be rough the next few days. That's the only possibility to leave the island for the next few days." And I thought they were kidding when they told me today at the harbour. How can they know that? The sea was pretty much fine today. I'm sure it'll be the same tomorrow.

"Can one of us fly with him?" My Mom asks. I don't think Ryan will like it, if we leave him alone in a hospital in a foreign country with a lot of people around him he doesn't understand.

"Unfortunately there'll be not enough space." The doctor answers. Oh shit. This will be hell, not only for Ryan, but also for the 'rents. If they can't hover over Ryan, what will they do to me in case he really has to go to a hospital on the mainland?

"That's impossible. I can't leave my son alone in such a situation. He doesn't understand the language, he's sick and he's afraid of hospitals. There's no way I'll put him through to this alone. He won't cope with it." My Mom says. I think she might be right. Exposing Ryan to such a situation could make things even worse and I'm not sure, whether happy pills then help to fix everything again.

"Mrs. Cohen, I understand your concerns, but…" The doctor starts.

"Doctor, can we have a minute in private?" My father asks and then leads the doctor into the kitchen. I only hope he knows how to persuade this man to not take Ryan without us. Shit. I never wanted Ryan to be that sick. I wanted him to suffer and I wanted him to have one of his black rage outs, but I didn't want him to be that sick. I have a real bad conscience right now and I don't even know why. It isn't even my fault that Ryan's sick. I've had no hand in this. I watch my Mom biting her lip nervously. She gets up.

"Where do you wanna go?" I ask her.

"Tell the doctor that we have to send Ryan alone to the hospital. There's nothing we can do about it anyway. I also think that Ryan won't want us around. He's been pretty rejecting lately and I don't want my mother's feelings for him letting him suffer more than he has to." She says. No. No, this is not good. Ryan wouldn't want to be alone. I know that he can say different and being very persuading, but I know how he really feels – how he really felt before he had to take these happy pills.

"Mom…I…don't think that's good. I think he won't be able to cope with this alone." I intervene. My Mom turns around and looks at me.

"Look…I…mean…this thing with the monkey…" I go on with my explanation.

"Don't start to remind me of that. I have enough other concerns on my mind." My Mom answers.

"Yeah…I know…but…it…it wasn't Ryan…who ripped the monkey into pieces." I say. As if this could make my Mom think different.

"What…wh…I mean who?" My Mom stammers.

"It was me. I've ripped it into pieces, not Ryan." I say, as if this could make any difference.

"What? Why would you do so?" She asks me with astonishment and sits down back next to me.

"Because I was angry. I wanted to provoke Ryan. I wanted to argue with him, but he wouldn't get angry and I thought…I thought if I repeat this monkey thing…you know ripping it off…I thought he would react then. He didn't." I admit. No ,I have confessed. I'm the monkey-murderer.

"And you didn't think about telling me earlier…maybe, before I blamed Ryan for everything?" She asks me furiously. I can only shrug my shoulders. I have no answer. I don't want to tell my Mom that I'd been afraid of her.

"And why didn't Ryan say something?" She asks me.

"I don't know, but maybe it's all linked to these little happy pills you feed him with. Since he takes them he's nothing more than some kind of Zombie. He doesn't have any feelings. These pills are killing his emotions…and…I don't know. I didn't tell you because I was afraid. You've already been awfully pissed the night of the accident. I was afraid you might…do I don't know what to me. You didn't show any regrets to Ryan, so I don't expect you'd show any to me." It all flows out of my mouth. I can't stop these words. I have to let my Mom know.

"Honey…I…I would never have done anything to you. I've been angry about your behaviour lately – both of you, but I would never do any harm to you or to Ryan." My Mom answers and now I feel stupid for what I've said.

"But nevertheless what you've done isn't fair – especially not for Ryan. You've been exploiting his situation and added to that your acts of jealousy. I don't know what I'm supposed to think about it. I'm starting to get the feeling as if you want to…get rid of Ryan. I'm afraid to ask, but may this be?" Oh shit. This is not good. I don't like this question. I don't know how to answer it.

"Might you at least tell me what happened that evening between the two of you?" My Mom asks. Oh my God, my Mom will hate me, if I tell her. I've really messed it up.

"We…just fought. Ryan wanted me to help him with Sophie and I said no and…" Does she need to know the whole truth, because right now what I've said seems to be so fucking awful.

"Did you say something to him?" My Mom can always read me. I don't like it.

"Well…I…I asked him…why he's doing all this stuff…you know Sophie-duty and stuff…" I can't tell her. She will have my head and I'm not ready for being headless.

"Nothing more?" My Mom's eyes dig into my soul and I feel so fucking awful. I'm the worse person on earth.

"Well…I…asked him why he's doing all this…as…you'renotevenhisrealparents." I say as fast as I can, hoping that my Mom don't understand, but she does…ouch. I feel the hot sensation and the feeling of hundred pins and needles in my cheek.

"And we wondered all the time what we've done wrong to make Ryan start to reject us again? You've no idea what this can cause inside of him, do you? We'd asked you, whether you'd like to have Ryan in the family and now you start this? I can't believe it." Her fury is now mixed with hysteria. Not a very good combination in my Mom's case.

"C'mon, it's not as you're all innocent in this. Who went riot on Ryan that evening without considering that he might be in bad pain? You've flattened him without even paying slightest attention to his injuries. So don't blame me for all this!" No, I never talked back to my Mom, but this time I have to. It's not like I'm the only one who behaved mean and unfair towards Ryan.

"But I had my reasons. This had been about Sophie and I had been stressed." My Mom tries to justify herself.

"And I've been stressed too or do you think a new borne in our family has no impact on me."

"But that has nothing to do with Ryan!" My Mom screams at me.

"And the reason for you being stressed has? I hope he doesn't know that!" I scream back.

"What the hell is going on here?" My father comes in and reproaches us.

"Did you know what our son said to Ryan?" My Mom asks him. Her face is slightly red. Hell, she's never been that angry with me. My father shakes his head.

"He threw into his face that we're not even his parents. Now we know what has caused all the problems lately."

"Oh no…you're not blaming me for all this, you've been the one complaining about all the trouble he's producing and you're the one folding him flat without being even the slightest concerned about his health condition." I throw back.

"Stop it, both of you. We've all made several mistakes, but now we have to find a solution that'll help Ryan and your fight is no help in this." My father ends the situation.

"What have you been discussing with the doctor?" My Mom asks him.

"Ways of avoiding admitting your son to hospital." The doctor comes in. "I think if you discontinue the antidepressants I can handle his pneumonia." The doctor says. I feel a slight relief emerging in myself. Someone finally saw that these pills don't do Ryan any good.

"But…this is not possible. He needs them. He's not able to cope without them." My mother stammers.

"I doubt that a boy his age is in the need of antidepressants." The doctor says. I doubt that this was the answer my Mom wanted to get. I for my part could start clapping my hands and cheer for the first positive success in the drug-dispute.

"But usually a boy in his age hasn't gone through as much as he did." My Mom snaps back.

"Whatever. What I know is that I can treat him here if you discontinue with them, otherwise the possible side effects the antidepressants might have in connection to other kind of medications are too risky and I don't want to take this risk." The doctor says. That's pretty much clear.

"Okay, I think we can give it a try." My father says. At least someone who stayed lucid during the whole time our family fights about nothing.

"When has he taken his last dosage?"

"This morning, I assume." My father says.

"Okay, we should give his system twenty-four hours to get rid of this chemistry, before I can start and treat him with stronger medication against his fever and coughing." The doctor concludes.

"That will be tomorrow morning." My father says.

"Okay, I'll come by then. But additionally you have to get enough fluids into your son, two litres – better more - and I don't care how, but he has to keep it and no pain killers."

"But the surgery on his knee was only a short while ago." My Mom says.

"Honestly, in his state now he won't even recognise if you chop off his leg. It's just precaution. When I know how he reacts to the medication we'll see whether his system can handle additional pain medication, but now I won't recommend it." The doctor says. My parents look at each other. They are not happy with this situation that they probably will have to put up with Ryan's moods again. But hell, it's about Ryan's health, this is by far more important than anything else.

"Okay that's it. I hope we can handle his pneumonia that way. It'll be good if you could have an eye on him during the night, just in case." The doctor says.

"We will." My father says and then leads the doctor out. Sophie starts crying. Mom and I go upstairs to see after her. I take her out of the crib. Her body is smooth and warm. It is a nice feeling her skin against mine.

"Did you know that Ryan once had a sister?" I ask my Mom. I want to tell her this. Maybe this helps us to understand Ryan a little more. I don't know why, but I think that understanding his past is important to understanding him now.

"No, he never mentioned her. How old is she?" My Mom asks.

"She's dead. She died shortly after her birth. His Mom couldn't handle a baby and thus he was stuck with the job. One day, when he came back from school she was dead. His Mom had shaken her to death. He blames himself for this, because it was the only time when he didn't manage to go home during his lunch break. I mean…we're talking about Ryan; he would've blamed himself anyway. But I think that's the reason why he cares so much about Sophie." I tell my Mom. She's looking at me.

"When did he tell you?"

"The night…when I ripped the monkey apart. He wanted to stop me from talking bad and provoking him. He thought if he told me I could understand him better."

"There are so many things he had lived through which are important to understanding him, but I think we need to be patient for him telling us."

"If he ever will? He's very quiet about his past and I doubt that'll change some day."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N.: Thanks to ParisAmy for the beta job and thanks for all the nice reviews. I hope you like this one =)

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19.**

I watch my son during the night. His sleep is restless. He's tossing and turning.

"Shh…kid…" I try to sooth him. I gently brush the bangs out of his face. His body is hot and drenched in sweat.

"No…leave me…please…don't"

"Kid…calm down…it's just me. Nobody is here who would hurt you." I try to calm him down and stroke my hand over his cheek. Only then I notice that his body is tensed up. He must have had a bad dream. I wish I knew what he's dreaming about. I take the cloth and put it into a bowl with water and put it back onto his forehead, hoping it'll help him. He flinches when the cloth touches his skin. His eyelids open and feverish blue eyes stare at me.

"Don't…I swear I won't make a noise." He starts speaking and I'm confused I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Ryan, it's me Sandy." I try to get him back into reality when I realise he doesn't recognise where he is.

"I know…I promise I'll be good, just don't hit me this time." Oh God, what have I done this one time when I lost my patience and couldn't refrain from… I didn't mean to hurt him. I…I should have thought about it before I slapped his face.

"Ryan, listen to me: I've explained to you it had been an exception and it had been a mistake. I won't hit you ever again." I try to explain him. Fear is written all over his face.

"But my teacher has started to ask so many questions about where I got the bruises from…and you told us that we have to be quiet about them, because otherwise they'll take us away." This must be the fever. I don't…oh no. The boy is caught somewhere in his past. That's what he's talking about.

"Ryan, it's over now. You're with us and nobody will take you away." I tell him.

"Mom…don't…" He starts whimpering and tears stream down his cheek. I don't know what to do. The only thing I can do is sitting down next to him and take him into my arms. I try to sooth him and make him aware of my presence.

"It's over now Ryan. Nobody will hurt you, I promise. I'll protect you." I start rocking him. It takes a little time, until he slips back into a restless sleep. I release him from my embrace and place him carefully in his bed. I sit back down in the chair. My eyelids feel heavy. I can't resist anymore and my eyes fall shut.

When I wake up again the boy lies still in his bed. I watch out the window. The doctor had been right. There's an awful storm raging outside. The waves collide with violent force against the shore. I draw my attention back to the boy. I lean over to him. There's still an enormous heat radiating from his body. I hope the doctor is able to help with this. I doubt it's good for a body to bear such a temperature over such a long time. The boy's body is shifting under the blankets. His eyes open again.

"Hey there, how are you?" I ask him.

"I'm fine." He tells me.

"Are you sure, because you gave us quite a scare last night?" I ask him. I have a curious feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something is strange about his behaviour. It seems so…innocent in somehow, as if he doesn't know what he's doing or saying; as if he's far away from what actually happens.

"Don't worry about me…it doesn't hurt." He says. I look at him.

"Ryan, what are you…" Again I meet these feverish eyes. He's far away from being lucid.

"Can you tell Kirsten that I'm sorry for …what happened. I didn't want to hurt Sophie. I would do everything to protect her from harm…do you believe me? I'd never hurt her…promised…I won't…"

"Ryan, Ryan…is okay, I understood and I'm sure Kirsten will too." I try to sooth him. I don't know how to handle him in this situation.

"I'm sure Kirsten hates me…I.…nearly damaged her daughter…Kirsten knows that I'm nothing but scum…she knows everything…I know that she thinks I wanted to damage Sophie, but I didn't…I know Kirsten hates me…I'm nothing but worthless nothing…"

"Ryan stop it…it's okay…this is not true…you have to stop this." I want to make him stop talking like that. Listening to these words rips my heart and soul out.

"She doesn't want me…she's only nice…she only tolerates me…" I have trouble to stay calm. What have we done to the him? How much pain have we added to his already existent one? I'm faced with all mistakes we've made.

"No…Ryan, now listen to me carefully." I grab him by his upper arms and shake him gently as if this could knock some sense into him.

"Everybody in this family wants you to be part of it. The last few days had been stressful and a lot of things had been said that weren't meant. So stop talking like this. We all love you, we don't tolerate you. We want you in our family, understood?" I look into his eyes. They don't show any glimpse of lucidity.

"'m tired." He says and then lies back, turns to his side and tries to curl up. His knee doesn't allow him to curl up into his usual protective position. When I'm sure that he's sleeping I go for a coffee and some breakfast.

"You're up?" My wife asks. "You look tired." She says and kisses me and then goes for her own mug of coffee.

"Had been a rough night. The fever makes him restless…I think he was…is delirious."

"What? Are you sure?"

"I pretty much am and I'm afraid of the insight this offers me into his inner world. He told me to say sorry for him, because of what happened the one evening and to tell you that he didn't want to harm Soph and that he never would do anything to hurt her. He told me you'll hate him and that you only tolerate him. I don't think he would tell me all this, if he was lucid." I answer honestly.

"He…what? Sandy, I don't just tolerate him…I love him like my son…and…oh my God."

"Kirsten calm down. See the positive side: that way we can find out how he feels. The first time he woke up he was caught somewhere in his past, begging his Mom not to hit him." I tell her. I need to wrap my own head around the fact that Ryan didn't grow up with us and never had been as protected as Seth or Sophie.

"Oh my God…I knew that discontinuing with the antidepressants wasn't a good idea." My wife claims.

"Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds right now. See it positively. This way he's telling us things he would never have told us." I try to stay optimistic. It's hard when you realise how broke the emotional world of a boy - you've declared as your son - is.

"Sandy you can't be serious. Ryan still questions his position in our family. He still doesn't accept us as his family. That's a serious problem." My wife starts arguing.

"Kirsten, listen: regarding to the last few days he has enough reasons to. We didn't really give him the feeling as being wanted, but as being a burden and trouble. Hell, we even said all those words describing the situation with him. I can understand him. The only thing we can do now is showing him that we didn't mean all those things." I explain my wife. We have done so much wrong. I'd never thought that taking a kid like Ryan in could be such a walk on a tightrope. We should've known.

"Have we been that awful towards him?" My wife asks me. I wish I wouldn't have to give her this answer, but I can't lie to her either.

"I think it was enough for him. I mean…you must see it all in a whole: Seth's jealousy, your outburst after the accident, our fights, my impatience. I think all this together was enough for Ryan to doubt that he's appreciated." I tell her.

"Is he awake?" My wife asks me.

"No, he fell asleep. I made use of the situation to get some coffee." I tell her. I grab a bread role and put some cheese and salami on it. I take my coffee and a bottle of water and head back to Ryan. He's still sleeping. I eat the bread role and when I realise that Ryan won't wake up soon take a shower. When I go back to the room Kirsten is there with the doctor.

"Good morning, how was the night?" He asks in my direction.

"A little troublesome. Ryan started to be delirious a few times. It's hard to calm him down then." I explain him. He nods. He takes Ryan's temperature.

"Well this explains a lot." He says when he reads the scale. "Okay I'll give him something, but it'll only take the edge of the fever. Someone still will have to have an eye on him. Here I have brought strong antibiotics. He should start taking them today. The sooner the infection ceases, the sooner his fever will go down again." The doctor says then he takes out a syringe. He leans over and pulls the sleeve of Ryan's t-shirt up. The boy flinches and his eyes shoot open in pure panic.

"Ryan, sweetie, it's okay. The doctor only wants to help you. He won't harm you." My wife reaches over to our son and tries to take him into an embrace, but he shifts away.

"Leave…" He starts to whisper. My wife looks confused at me.

"Ryan, honey…what's wrong."

"I…didn't do anything wrong this time…it wasn't me…" He starts stammering again. I sit down on the other side of the bed.

"Ryan, the doctor only wants to inject something in your arm that'll make you feel better." I try to explain him. His body is awfully tense.

"But I'm fine…doesn't hurt anymore…I swear…I just fell down the stairs…was just an accident." Now the doctor looks confused at us.

"And nobody thinks something else." I start to sooth him.

"Mommy is going to be angry when she finds out that you know." He starts babbling on. I wish he was talkative like that when he wasn't sick.

"But she won't." I sooth him. His body doesn't seem to be able to relax.

"Her boyfriend will be angry when she tells him that you know…he can be pretty tough…he made Trey cry one day." I feel my wife's glances in my neck, as well as those from the doctor.

"But nobody here will make anyone cry." I tell him. I feel as if I was talking to a child – to a young version of Ryan.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Just let the doctor do his job and I promise everything will be okay then."

"You sure?"

"Yes I am." I tell him and take him into my arms. I press his head gently against my chest, like I used to do with Seth when he was little. I just blocked his sight so he didn't see that the doctor wanted to give him his shot or draw a blood sample. I watch how the doctor carefully pulls up the sleeve and then carefully injects something. When the needle hits his arm he starts flinching again.

"Shhh, it's already over." I tell him, pecking the top of his head.

"'m tired." He says and then his eyes fall slowly shut.

"This was scary." The doctor comments the previous scene when Ryan has fallen asleep.

"I told you there are reasons for him taking the antidepressants." My wife snaps at him and then strokes through our son's hair.

"I know, I know." The doctor answers defensive. "This should keep the fever down for a few hours. I'll come back in the evening for another dosage." The doctor says. I guide him out.

"Mr. Cohen I can understand that the situation is hard for you right now, but I can ensure you that it wouldn't be much different from what would happen if your son took his antidepressants. Maybe you should take advantage of the situation. Maybe he tells you some things he would never tell you in a lucid state, but are important for you to understand him." The doctor says and I'm astonished of how much we seem to have in common. This had been my first thought too.

"We'll try, but it's not easy." I admit.

"Nobody said that having kids was easy. I know what you're talking about, believe me." The doctor says and then leaves. I go back to our son. My wife still sits on the edge of the bed stroking through his hair.

"Sandy, what was that?" She asks me.

"That was what I was faced with last night and the second time this morning." I just answer and sit down on the chair.

"How can you be like that?" My wife asks me and looks into my eyes.

"How can I be like what?" I ask her back.

"I mean…Ryan…he'd been afraid of someone hurting him, he'd given us an insight into his violent past. He tells you that he thinks I hate him. How can you listen to all of this and stay calm as if nothing happened?"

"I don't know. I just take the situation as it is. I know Ryan's life before he came to us had been hard and I try to handle it. I know that we've had several conflicts in the past with him and I try to handle them. That's all I – we can do anyway. Just try and handle." I answer. "C'mon, I guess he'll sleep for the next couple of hours. Let's get some nice breakfast and a little quiet time." I say to my wife. She nods, but only reluctantly leaves our son.

"Morning son, you're up early." I say to Seth when he enters the kitchen.

"The storm woke me up. How's Ryan doing?" He asks. I'm astonished. Is this the first sign that my son has left his jealous attitude? I hope so.

"He's still very sick." My wife answers.

"How sick is very sick?" My son asks.

"His fever is very high. The doctor had to inject him something to get it down and he's hallucinating." I answer him. I have the feeling as if I can make out a glimpse of concern in his face.

"That's not good. Will he be okay soon? I mean it's not fun being sick on vacation." He replies.

"We'll have to wait and see how everything will turn out, but the doctor seems to know quite exactly what to do." My wife answers.

"So sit and wait is again all we can do." My son concludes.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N.: Thanks to by beta-reader ParisAmy and for all the nice reviews.** I'd like to explain my motives behind this story: this is supposed something like an 'anti-story', because I wasn't really happy how they solved the problem of taking in a foster kid with Ryan's background. In reality this isn't as smooth and easy as they showed it in the show. I think the problem is that you can have a person with a huge birdcage and this person really takes care of all the birds, but no matter how much this person cares: a fish would always die in such a cage. This might be a harsh example, but this is the mistake they made in the show: the fish suddenly got lungs and developed into a bird with scales. I'm not sure whether this makes a lot of sense. Still I hope you like this story

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**20.**

I took the night shift this time. I don't know how we managed, but somehow we made Ryan drink enough during the day and even managed to make him take his antibiotics. His nightmares and his hallucinations are worrying me. My husband is right. We get an insight in his inner life. I never thought I would be that afraid of it. I'd always wanted to know what was going on inside of him, but now it's scaring me. I watch him. He starts tossing and turning again. His fever is down a little, but it doesn't seem to help a lot. I place a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Shhh, honey it'll be fine." I whisper into his ear. I've found out that whispering assuring words calms him down. I watch how his eyes open slowly. They're feverish.

"Hey sweetie." I say to show him that I'm there for him. It's even more important for him to know that he isn't alone than for anyone else. Sometimes I liked to know what Dawn would've done in my position. Would she have been sitting at the side of her son's bed and watching him, or wouldn't she have cared? I can't tell. I never met this woman, but I know that she had let others beat her kids. This is enough information for me to tell that she rather hadn't cared, but this is only an assumption. I want to place a hand on his shoulder, but he backs off. I wonder how messed up the thoughts in his head must be, and the emotions.

"Ryan, sweetie…you don't need to be afraid of anything." I tell him. I wish my husband was here right now, but this would only prove that I'm overtaxed with my own children. This confession would be too embarrassing as if I'd allow anyone to listen to it.

"Mommy I …don't want him coming in the night." He starts speaking and I immediately know that he isn't talking to me, but to his mother.

"Ryan: here's nobody." I try to soothe him.

"But he's coming every night. I don't want him to come anymore." He doesn't understand me. What shell I do?

"Ryan there's nobody coming every night. If you want I can leave you alone, but other than me there's nobody." I tell him. I want to tear him back to reality. I don't want him to talk like that – not to me.

"I'm not lying. He's coming when you're asleep and then he's…doing…all these things and I don't want him to do them anymore." I swallow hard. This wasn't what I expected. He's still caught somewhere in his past and his dreams.

"Honey, it's over now. Nobody is coming anymore." I tell him. I sit down next to him and take him into my arms. His body his all tensed up and trembling. He must be so afraid of what had happened. I want to protect him from his past, but I can't. I'm not in his head.

"I promise you, nobody will do anything to you anymore. Nobody will come and nobody will harm you." I whisper in his ear. I'm rocking him back and forth as I used to do with Seth when he was young and had all these nightmares, but it's not the peaceful motion as it used to be with Seth. There are so many thoughts running through my head, mainly reproaches about myself and the way I behaved. I did and said so many things I regret now, and worst of all: I blamed my kids, most of all Ryan, for my own shortcomings. I should have sought help, for someone who could have prepared and explained to me how to take care of a kid like Ryan – a kid with such a background. I didn't and the fact that I couldn't – can't – treat him like one of my children threw my a loop and now I'm sitting here well aware of the damage that I've caused.

"I'm scared mommy." He says.

"You don't need to be." I tell him and stroke through his hair and peck the top of his head. I have to leave all these mistakes behind. I have to start to realise. I have to stop hiding. I have to act and for the most I have to explain myself to him. I'm holding him tight, while I try to figure out how things will go on between all of us. The tremor in his body eases off. The tension leaves his body. His eyes fall close again. I gently lay him back again, hoping this was the last time he was like that. I settle back into the chair and take the book which I was reading. I didn't even read two pages, but my eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier. I can't keep my eyes open for any longer. I get woken by rustling sheets. I open my eyes to see him tossing and turning again. The morning light falls through the window. It is early - too early. How is he supposed to get any better when he can't seem to find any rest? I go over to him and shake him carefully.

"Hey sweetie." I tell him. He needs to calm down. He needs to rest. He needs to get better as soon as possible. I can't stand him being sick like that. He sits up. A glimpse of hope that the worse was over is running through me.

"You feel better?" I ask him. He looks at me. His eyes are still feverish and he doesn't respond to my question. I look at him, prepared for what might come next. I watch him swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. No, not good. His knee buckles under his weight. I try to reach him, to support him, but I can't. With a painful groan he collapses to the ground. I rush over to him.

"Honey, are you hurt?" I ask him. I look at his knee. It's swollen again. I try to help him up, but I can't. I'm too weak as if I could lift him up again.

"Sandy!" I call out. Now I need his help, no matter how embarrassing it is.

"No…not he'll be mad when he sees the mess I've made." Ryan answers. No, not again.

"No Ryan, he won't be mad at you." I just have to play the game. My husband had done so, so I'll have to do the same if I want to get through to him.

"But he yelled at me. He's so angry." He tells me. Oh. My. God. I don't even want to know how many mistakes we've done according the boy. We should've asked for professional help in first place. It was stupid to think we could handle him like every other child – like our own son.

"No, Ryan. He won't be angry." I try to soothe him.

"What's wrong?" My husband steps in.

"He wanted to get up, but his knee gave way." I explain to him. My husband comes over to us and tries to help Ryan up again.

"No…please…don't…I know I screwed it up…I know I'm screwed up, but I'll fix it, I promise." Ryan tries to defend himself.

"Ryan, I only want to help you back to bed." My husband tries to make him realise that he's there to help him, but Ryan backs off. He doesn't allow my husband to touch him.

"I won't do it again…I didn't mean to…I just…I don't know what to do…" He answers. The last sentence reminds me awfully of last year. It reminds me that we've done so many mistakes. It had been stupid to think we could handle a kid like Ryan without professional help. It had been stupid to think we could treat him like we treat our eldest son. Why did I never come to this realisation before – why didn't we? We claim for ourselves to be intelligent, but we're stupid. We've been naïve enough to think things would settle down into a nice family-routine as soon as Ryan was allowed to stay permanently with us. What a crazy thing to think.

"Ryan, everything's fine. You haven't done anything wrong and I'm not mad at you. Just let me help you back to bed." My husband tries to calm him down again. Ryan's body language tells me he's all in his defence-modus. He's frightened to his guts that we could hurt him or harm him in another way. Why? Only because of the words that slipped our mouths sometimes; or is he still unsecure about his place in our family? Right now, I rather wish for the latter option.

"But I did so many wrong things…you must be mad…" At least he understands what we're telling him.

"There's nothing to be mad about. Just go back to sleep and we'll talk tomorrow." My husband says and manages somehow to get the boy up and back to bed. The fact that my husband can lift the boy is another sign of how weak the boy is again. He had lost a lot of strength in awfully short time. I go over and tuck him in again. His eyes are already shut.

"Have we really done so many things wrong?" I ask my husband.

"I think we did and more than we are aware of …and…added to that all those fears which he still carries in his heart. He has a lot on his plate." My husband answers when we step out. I need a break and I don't want Ryan to listen to our conversations.

"And what were we paying the therapist for?" I ask my husband.

"That's what I'm asking myself since weeks; but I trust Ryan that he had tried to make it work, so it only could have been the therapist's and our fault. We were supposed to intervene much earlier. We were supposed t recognise that we were handling things the wrong way, that his therapist did and that Seth did, too." We go to our bedroom and get dressed. I won't be able to sleep anyway. When we reach downstairs I can see the doctor coming. I open the door, before he gets the chance to ring the bell.

"Already up?" The doctor asks. We only nod. "Rough night? Well, shouldn't last too long, maybe one more night. The fever should be down by the day after tomorrow. If not I have no other choice to admit him to hospital." The doctor says. I only beg that my son knows that and tries to recover at least a little more soon. I don't want to have to send him to hospital again. He's had enough of that.

We lead the doctor upstairs again. This time Ryan doesn't even wake up when the doctor injects the medicine into his upper arm.

"Do you want a coffee?" I ask the doctor. Somehow I need to show him how grateful I am that he tries to help us that bad.

"Oh…that would be nice." The doctor says. We go back into the kitchen and I pour three mugs of coffee.

"Is your little daughter sleeping through the nights already?" He asks us. That's something I like about this island. People are open and not this distanced, and they mean it.

"Yes, we actually never had real problems with that. She's a very quiet kid." My husband answers.

"That's great. I had never the luck and I have three children myself." He answers.

"Well, we don't know how Ryan was as baby, unfortunately. When he moved in with us, he'd already been sixteen." I answer.

"I thought something like that." The doctor answers. I look at him confused. Is it that obvious that we aren't Ryan's real parents? Oh my God, we must be the worse adoptive parents in the world. In fact, we are.

"No…sorry it came…out wrong. What I mean is that this is the only explanation for your concerns about his past and his…well disturbing hallucinations." He corrects himself. "But…I don't want to be nosey, but how did the boy managed to burn his whole back?" I close my eyes. I totally had forgotten about that. I don't even know whether it is still bothering him or not. He must be awfully uncomfortable, laying on his back or sitting with all these wounds on his back. How badly have I been confused?

"It was a kitchen accident…we don't know how it happened…but he slipped in the kitchen and managed to knock over the pot with boiling water." I answer. "Uh…does his back raise any reasons for concern?" I ask him.

"No…no it seems to be healing just fine. I was only wondering, because there are a lot of things coming together in one time. That's all."

"Unfortunately Ryan never seemed to recover fully from our – my accident. Since then we're not only fighting one flu or cold after another, but also a lot of trouble with his leg." My husband answers. I don't know but getting rid of these things to a third person helps.

"What kind of accident?"

"Due some heavy rain a truck driver lost control over his vehicle and…ran into the passenger side of our car." My husband answers. He still suffers from nightmares about this accident and I know that he inwardly is still blaming himself that this had happened.

"And I guess it was your…son?" The doctor asks shy, uncertain whether he can call him like that. I nod.

"So…your son was sitting on that side?" The doctor concludes. My husband and I only nod. "Then I can assume that the injuries he suffered from were quite server?"

"We're glad that he survived. He lost one of his kidneys as well as his spleen. His leg was broken and his knee dislocated. All of this required surgery and now his leg consist more of screws than of bone." I answer the question. I can see my husband's uneasiness regarding to this topic. I don't want to make him feel more uncomfortable as he already does.

"Well, there we have the explanation for why he doesn't seem to recover. I know you probably can't listen to these words anymore, but you have to be patient. I can understand that you feel overtaxed with all of this, but all these injuries have a huge impact on his immune system. After something like that it has to rebuild itself, and the lost spleen makes it even more difficult. I'm sure the climate here will help him. You just need to give him and his body the time to heal. I would like to give you better advice, but that's the only one I can give to you." I feel relieved that he understands us. I never felt like the doctors at home did understand us. Their only concern seemed to be patching our son up and then let him go as soon as possible. No, I don't like this idea, but it's the truth.

"All this is so easy to be said, but in practice it's awfully difficult." I admit.

"I'm sure it is, but let's assume that the boy wasn't as tough as he is, and I'm sure he is when he even can make such a long journey in his state. It'll be even harder for all of you." He says. Only now I realise how tough Ryan must be. He'd never complained about fate and what had happened to him. From time to time a swearword would slip his mouth, because things didn't work as they used to, but nothing more. He never asked why it had been him. He never complained why in hell it always has to be him who got the bad cards. He did nothing of that. He just tried to accept it and to improve his situation.

I still remember his first appointment at physical therapy. It must have been awfully painful for him, but he stayed silent. He'd clenched his jaw and I had been afraid he might damage his teeth, but he never complained. The only thing he would ask was, whether he could get some ice for his knee. That's it. Nothing more. He won't even ask for pain medication, if Sandy or I wouldn't realise that he was in bad pain. No, he really never made it difficult for us. He takes all crises as they show up to him and he challenges them all and succeeds. Somehow I should be proud of him. He overcame all his fears when Sophie was born. He was the first one offering help. He would stay home for her if we had an appointment. He never would say anything. We should be proud of him rather than blaming him for all the trouble. It's clear to me now. I need to tell him that. We need to tell him that. We have to explain to him that what we've said and thought was wrong.

"Okay, I better get going now. There are a few other patients waiting for me. I'll come around in the evening again to check on your son. Thanks for the coffee." The doctor says and puts down the mug. My husband guides him out. Now we have a few peaceful hours. As long as the effect of the medication is strong, he won't wake up or suffer from any hallucinations.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N.: **Sorry, this chapter isn't betaed. I didn't like this chapter and I thought it was unnecessary, but the reviews told me that it might be necessary, so I searched through my 'written-rubbish' and found this one. I hope it's okay. Thanks for all the nice reviews

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**21.**

The doctor comes back in the evening. Fortunately Ryan has been calmly asleep during the whole time. He checks on Ryan.

"Seems as if the fever starts to subside, but we need to be careful." He says to me, while my husband doesn't look too convinced.

"May I ask you a question?" The doctor looks at us. I feel uncomfortable.

"Of course." My husband answers.

"Why did you come here? I mean your son has been injured and sick, before you started your journey, why didn't you decide to stay home where he can heal in a familiar surrounding?" What…why? I look over to my husband who stands still as stone. I know that he has been critical about this journey either, but he didn't say a lot, because of…me. He didn't want to fight with me about something like that. I've been on the edge, flying into rage at the smallest occasion. We've hurt our kids enough with our conflicts already. He tried to avoid another conflict which might have hurt our kids any further. He's much more considerate than I am. In fact, when I'm thinking about it now, I can't tell why I had wanted to come here after all. I had wanted to come here. That's all. I had booked everything, gotten myself a few weeks out of the office and I wanted to enjoy the time, far, far away from everything. I thought I cold leave all conflicts and problems at home. It's stupid to think that you can run away from your problems. You can't. They'll follow you everywhere. I just didn't want to be home anymore. I didn't want to fight anymore. I was craving a normal family life.

"We talked to a doctor at home and he assured us that it was okay for us to come here as long as we watched Ryan not getting in contact with sand and sea water." I answer finally, not having an idea what else to say.

"Okay, but didn't you have any second thoughts? I mean, when you're not feeling well, do you want to travel all around the world and being a sick stranger somewhere you've never been before?" He asks us. I don't know what he wants to reach with this. This isn't his business. We've made our decision, not to hurt Ryan. We decide to come here for all of us, because this was supposed to do us good as a family. I look over to my husband. I want him to say something to this man, who implies that we deliberately hurt one of our children out of selfish motives. That's wrong. He doesn't know what I gave up for my family, what I did to make them feel home and loved. This man is in no positions to doubt that we love and care for our kids.

"I'm aware that coming here wasn't the best idea, but you must understand that we couldn't stay at home. There had been too many conflicts and this seemed to be our last chance to get things straight between us again." My husband replies diplomatically. I don't want him to be diplomatic. Didn't he notice that this man attacked us and our competence of being parents?

"What kind of conflicts?" He asks and that's the last straw.

"No offence, doctor, but I don't think that this is your business." I let him know that he stepped over a boarder he shouldn't even have touched.

"Well, I don't want to be impolite, but I'm having a patient here, who's very sick and badly injured. It's obvious to me that he's not feeling well that he's uncomfortable. Also I know that these injuries didn't appear over night, as well as the pneumonia. So for me the assumption that someone hasn't had a close eye on my patient lies at hand. Now I want to know, why nobody realised any of this before - why nobody took care, because if I come to the conclusion that the reason is neglect I have to do something. I can't close my eyes in case you're overtaxed or unable to take care of a foster kid. This would betray the Hippocratic Oath I've taken." Well that's it. Another person, who threats us to take Ryan away from us, only because we're not an ideal family. This is not fair. Nobody ever asked us, how difficult it actually was and is to take care of a kid with such a background. We didn't ask the question and though we do all we can to make him feel comfortable and as member of our family. If we don't succeed, it's not our fault, because we did and still do all in our power. We're not to be blamed for the fact that a kid like Ryan can't deal with the usual family life. I can't take the fears from him. We did so many things to get a handle on this. Nothing worked. What else shall we do? Bring him back and say: take him back, because he's not adjusting as we want him to? This would be mean and unfair, but not our attempted to help him adjust in our family.

"We told you about the accident, well…since then Ryan is very dependent on others, something we and he isn't used to. When Sophie was born we thought things could start to settle down, but then our other son – Seth – developed some kind of jealousy of Ryan. We still don't know where this comes from. We had trouble dealing with all of this, because Ryan isn't talking about these things and Seth didn't want to and then things were said and done we all regret now, but Ryan can't differentiate between things which are said in a quarrel and things which are really meant. And we thought if we all go on vacations to some place where we have stick together as family, things might settle down again, but obvious they don't." My husband spills the beans. I'm not sure whether I agree with what he said or whether I agree that he said this at all. This isn't supposed to be judged by strangers who have no clue what it means to hold a big family together.

"But you knew that Ryan was too sick to actually travel, did you?"

"Of course we did, but our other son was already looking forward to this journey and he already had to step back because of Ryan's treatments and special needs. It would have been unfair, if we had denied him this here again because of Ryan." I defend myself – ourselves.

"I can understand that balancing all your family members' needs is a walk on a tight rope. But your son – Seth - is nearly an adult. You could have talked to him, explained to him the situation. He's not a small kid anymore, he'd understand it."

"I doubt that. The trouble started earlier than our plans for the vacations." My husband intervenes.

"Then you haven't handled the situation right from the very beginning." The doctor reproaches us. Now I can't refrain from flying into rage. This is ultimately the last straw.

"How can you say something like that? You have no idea how it is to take in a kid that's not your own. You have no idea how it is to coax such a kid out of his shell, to provide him a family life. You have no idea how it is, having to resist every attempt of rejection, to fight his demons tooth and nail no matter at what expenses." I scream it into the man's face who's talking about things he can't even imagine.

"Kirsten…calm down, I'm sure the doctor didn't mean to offend us." Sandy grabs my shoulders with firm hands. I don't care what the doctor intended to do and what not. He has implied that we're incapable of being Ryan's parents.

"You're right, we might have dealt with the changes in our family the wrong way, but we never intended to hurt any of our kids, especially not Ryan. We misjudged the outcome of taking in a foster kid. But we don't regret it now and I ask you to please not give us the feeling as if we have to." My husband says, putting the doctor in his place.

"I'm sorry, if this was the message I conveyed to you. This wasn't my intention."

"Then what was you intention?" I'm still not any calmer than I've been a few seconds ago. I can't calm down, when someone attacks me.

"My intention was, to…demonstrate you potential roots for the conflicts. Of course it is hard to raise kids and I have no doubts that it's hard to take care of a kid with a rough past. The important thing is, that the whole family – every of its members –adjusts to a new situation. It's wrong to think that you can go on with your family life as you're used to, and only Ryan's the one who has to adjust. This won't work. You have to move towards each other to create a new family life each member feels secure and comfortable in. What I see right now, is a family in which nobody feels comfortable in, because the changes made it impossible to go on as usually." I look over to my husband who tilts his head a little. A sign that he understood what the doctor said. I did too. I can't hide from the fact that he is actually right. We didn't even try to change anything, despite maintaining a few more kids, but that was it. It never occurred to me to change my life style, although it's important that I do so.

"Thanks doctor, we'll think about what you've said, but we'll need some time, at least until Ryan is better again." Sandy answers the doctor, while he guides him out of the house. A few minutes ago I would have kicked this man out and never let him back in again, but now I'm not that sure whether my reaction was the right one. I can't allow myself to fly into frustration that easily anymore. Seth might be used to it, but Ryan isn't and Sophie neither. I could never explain to them what I really meant by these rages. I sit down on the couch. I have to think about how to go on. I have to think about how to change our rituals, but still remain the same family. When the doctor is gone Sandy joins me on the couch.

"It wasn't all wrong what the man said." He starts to take part in my thoughts.

"No that's true, but how to change our family, without hurting Seth?" I ask him back.

"We don't have to change our family, just our routines and for the most we have to talk to the teenagers. We can't leave them out of the process." He says and I admire him for his cool head and the fact that he still can think like a teenager.

"Probably you're right, but how to change things which have been a routine for so long?"

"I doubt that this will be that difficult. These routines have been a burden to us, since we expanded our family. The routines don't fit anymore and that's what made all of us cranky. We have to take the life as it is now and I'm sure we'll discover our new routines. They'll develop as the others have. We only have to let go of the old ones." He says and pulls me close, so that I can rest in his arms. Let go. This has never been one of my advantages. But now I have to, for my kids' sake.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N.: **Thanks to my beta for betaing this chapter

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**22.**

I can hear them every night talking to Ryan. Their talking is keeping me awake, but I don't say anything. I'll have enough time to sleep in the morning after the doctor had come and calmed Ryan down. I've never witnessed him being sick like that. I guess it's even worse than seeing him messed up in a hospital bed. There he at least had been lucid and responsive to what one had said to him. Right now he reminds me of some kind of zombie I don't want to keep company with. Yes, I know I am his brother and I should be there for him and help – somehow. I can't. I'm caught in my own problems. Well, what does problem mean? Since I've confessed everything my parents seem to be really mad at me. They'd never been really mad at me. This time they are. Hell, they have a lot of reasons to be. I've behaved like the last man on earth, and I don't think I can make up for it again. I can apologize to Ryan and tell him how sorry I am; and that I didn't mean it, but it wouldn't change anything, because what I've said remains said; and what had happened afterwards will still have happened. I can't undo it, no matter how bad I want to. Sometimes I wish I would think before talking. I should start doing so, but you lose precious time with thinking. Time you rather should use for expressing yourself. Okay, I should consider the time I need to compensate the damage done due to these words. I know I only want to avoid this topic. I want to find a proof that this is not all my fault and that it isn't as bad, as it seems. I can't find one and properly there is none, because what I've said is really bad. I don't think Ryan will ever forgive me for that. Hell, I had been the reason for him asking to annul the adoption – an adoption I had agreed to and an adoption I'd been looking forward to. Something got lost over the time and I don't know what it was. Only one thing is certain: that I won't be able to go back to sleep anyway. So I'd better get up and see whether I can make something out of the day. I go to the bathroom, have a quick shower and go downstairs. It's nothing new to me that my parents are already awake. They don't seem to sleep a lot lately. Ryan's so sick that they have to monitor him every night. Well, either it's the baby or Ryan. No, stop. I want to stop these thoughts, but why should I? Everybody around here is doing and saying what he or she wants. Why not me?

"Hey son, you're up very early." My father says when I enter the kitchen and grab my mug of coffee. Hell, why don't we have our usual breakfast outside?

"Yeah, couldn't sleep anymore." I only answer.

"Why don't the two of us sit down and have a little talk about the whole situation we're faced with? It's only the two of us. Mom is out with Sophie, Ryan's sleeping. So, we have a lot of time just for ourselves." He says. I don't want to talk about this. This has nothing to do…well it has something to do with him, but I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen to what a bad person I am.

"C'mon son. We need to sort this out anyway, because I don't want any of my kids being hurt, not when I can help it and I'm sure I can this time." How the heck, does he know that I feel hurt? My Dad hands me a bread role with prawns and then he drags me to the living room and forces me to sit down.

"Okay son, what I know is that you're jealous and I also know that jealously isn't you. This tells me you must be angry, sad and disappointed. Am I right?" My father starts. How is he able to hit the nail on its head?

"But…how…?" It escapes my mouth.

"I'm your father and I notice when something is wrong. The only problem was that you've never been available for a conversation, but now you are and I'll make use of the situation. I know that since Sophie's birth a lot of things have changed. I know that we've been pretty much focused on her and it might well be that we didn't give you the attention that you needed. I know that we've been pretty much concerned with Ryan before that time. But you have to believe me that we never intended to forget you and your needs, and you need to understand that as well as Sophie, Ryan needed this attention after the accident. I can understand your feelings about having to share your parents' attention first with another and later with two siblings. I've been the oldest one of three kids myself. I understand that from time to time you just feel hate towards the others, because they deprive you of what had been your privilege. But this is something you have to blame your parents for and not your brothers and sisters. They had no say in that they were brought into the family. It's the one and lonely decision of your parents. Sophie never was able to decide, whether she wanted to be part of the family; and you know if Ryan had gotten his will back then, he probably wouldn't have become part of this family. This had been Kirsten's and my decision." Oh my God. Now I understand what Ryan meant with: lawyers love to talk. I've never had to listen to so many words spoken by my own father. I still have the bread role in my hand, but I don't feel like eating it. I feel more like…I don't know how I feel. It seems to make sense, what my Dad has said though I feel as if it doesn't help me to solve my problems.

"I'm waiting for a response." My father says. He looks at me. I don't know what it is, but my father can make you want to tell him everything and my problem is I can't resist this feeling.

"Yeah…I…I dunno…I mean…It's …like…you know…I was just pissed by Ryan being Mr. Perfect, pleasing and satisfying everything and everyone and…"

"You thought we would start to prefer him over you by the time. This is nonsense. We never would prefer one over the other. Of course sometimes you compare your kids and you think hell, why couldn't the one have more of his brother's or sister's attitude in certain situations, but this happens for all three of you. Yes, I sometimes think that being a little more independent and a little more of a helping hand in the household wouldn't harm you. But I also think that Ryan could just be a little more talkative and a little more relaxed and dependent. These are facts, but they would never make us love the one more than the other one. And hell, we both know that Ryan isn't perfect. When he messes something up then it is huge and he messed up a lot of things last year. The only difference now is that he calmed down a bit and believe me, if his leg wouldn't be such a hindrance, he still would mess things up. Kirsten and I…just exploited the situation and imposed the duty of taking care of Sophie on him. After Marissa was gone and you had Summer, he never went out anymore. What would you have done in our position?" He really loves to talk. I thought I'm the only one here who can talk so many words in a row.

"I dunno…" He starts to make me feel bad about what I've said and done. I don't want to feel bad about it, because I had and have a right to behave like that.

"What don't you know?" My father asks on.

"I…mean everything had become so different…not only because of the presence of the two of them. I…usually Ryan and I would hang out with the girls, but after this fucking accident Ryan just wasn't able to do so anymore. He was either at physical therapy or at the shrink or too tired to do something. I only had Summer left, and you know after Marissa left Ryan would've felt like the fifth wheel, if he had been hanging out with Summer and me. Can you imagine how fucked up this is? Ryan and I used to be the inseparable and from one to the other day we were forced to be separated. I was just so pissed off that things had changed into that and there was and is nothing I can do about it. I want to hang out with Ryan, but he can't. I was angry with him, because I thought he just might exaggerate and play a role. I wanted him to brace himself, pull himself together and be again the Ryan he used to be – the Ryan I could hang out with."

"And then you just wanted to provoke him to get any kind of reaction making you sure that he's still the same, right?" My father asks and I only nod.

"That's why you ripped off the monkey and didn't step in when Mom accused Ryan for it, that's why you told him we aren't even his real parents, that's why you didn't help him when he asked you to, right?" He concludes. Oh my God, what have I done? It really sounds as bad, as my father tries to make me feel. What does try mean? He had succeeded. I feel so crappy about all of this that I want to run upstairs and cry Ryan a river about how sorry I am for all this, and that I only did it because I wanted the old Ryan back.

"Seth you know that Ryan didn't choose it and…"

"Yes, especially he didn't choose these happy pills which kill all his emotions and make him a zombie." I cry out. I don't want to blame my parents for this, but I think there could have been some better solution than these pills. I know that Ryan is… somehow sick in his head with all his memories and conflicts and stuff, but do these pills really do the job, they're supposed to do? I thought they were supposed to make him feel better not…

"…to make him feel nothing." I mumble.

"What?" My father asks me.

"You said these happy pills were supposed to make Ryan feel better, but they just make him feel nothing anymore." I express my thought.

"They were supposed to help him deal with his emotions, because he can't handle them." My father answers.

"Yes and we can all see how well he deals with his emotions: he doesn't." I answer. Now I'm angry with my parents.

"Seth, where's the problem about this?"

"The problem is that you rather hook one of your sons on drugs than helping him out the way he needs to be helped."

"Why should we think like that?" My father's facial expression tells me that he can't understand what I'm telling him now.

"How would I know? Maybe because Sophie was on her way and you just didn't want to be bothered anymore by his nightmares and outbursts and all the stuff." I have to brace myself to not to scream it into his face. I have to stay calm. I don't want to wake Ryan, because I still have the hope that I can spend some time with him around here.

"Seth, this was definitely not the reason. We didn't like the decision, but his therapist had made several tests and decided that this was the only way to help Ryan. You're right in one point. Mom and I were overtaxed with the situation, because we had no idea how to help Ryan with his problems. We've tried everything, but there was nothing left for us to do. We had to leave it with some professional, although I think that this guy wasn't worth the money we spent on him, because I doubt he had helped Ryan in any way." My father says. Now I can hear that he's angry. I have never witnessed how sceptical he was about this topic. I thought they had made the decision without thinking about it further.

"So…if it had been in your hands, would you have done all these drugs to Ryan?" I ask him. I want to be sure about the impression I got.

"I don't know. I know that your Mom had been suspicious about the drugs from the very beginning and I'm suspicious about them now, because you're right. Now, when I'm thinking about it properly I doubt they have helped him dealing with his problems, but merely suppressed them." My father answers. Wait, does this mean that I've persuaded him from my point of view? This can't be true, because this never had happened before…well regarding to Ryan it had happened one time before, but afterwards it never had happened again. Why now?

"What are you thinking about?" My father pulls me out of my thoughts.

"I'm just astonished that you adopted my point of view. You never did so." I answer him.

"Seth, you're not five years old anymore. You're a person with a funded opinion and I respect that. It's my job as your Dad to treat you as the adult person you are, to respect your opinions as if they are those of a person a few decades older than you. This means I have to think about what you're saying and of course you can make me change my mind." My father answers me. Wait, did he say that I am adult enough as to respect my opinions. Oh my God. I need to change my behaviour. I can't behave like a little boy when my father really considers my opinions in his decisions and inner disputes.

"And this, my son, is the reason of why we're concerned about your latest behaviour, because we're not sure whether we've made the right decisions. Maybe we've been wrong and we shouldn't have adopted Ryan. Maybe we've been wrong to think we could put up with a new born. But worse of all is, we can't make any of these decisions undone. We can't tell Ryan, we don't want him anymore as part of the family, because we love him too much as if we could tell him this, although it might have been one of the biggest mistakes we've ever done. We can't give Sophie away, because we love her too much and giving her to strangers would break our hearts, although it might have been the most wrong decision we could have made." My father says and now I feel like the crappiest crap on earth.

"No." Is all I can whisper.

"No, what?" My father wants to know. Today he's really nosey.

"No, it wasn't a mistake to adopt Ryan, because I don't want to miss him as family member too, and no, deciding to keep Sophie wasn't a wrong decision because I love my little baby-sister too. I doubt that three minds can be wrong altogether." I look at my father.

"And that's how you really feel?"

"Yes, damn it yes. I don't want to miss Ryan and hell, what I've said was so damn fucking unfair that I could kick my ass for it, if I was capable of it. I love Sophie and I can't even imagine how life would be without her around anymore…I just…I don't know what had gotten into me." And now it's getting embarrassing, but I can't keep my tears from streaming down my cheeks. This is just too much. I feel relieved of being rid of all these thoughts and it feels good – overwhelming good. I feel how my Dad puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me tighter at his side. I feel how he warps the other arm around me and takes me into a bear hug. That's exactly what I need now.

"It's okay to feel like you did from time to time, but you should come and talk to us earlier, before things like that happen." My father says, but doesn't let off of me.

"I'm glad you told me and I promise everything will get back to normal again. I promise things won't stay that chaotic as they are now." My father says and holds my tight. I let my tears go. I can't keep this amount of water anyway.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N.: Thanks for the reviews and to my beta Paris-Amy for her patience and her efforts =)

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23.**

"Hey guys, what's wrong with you?" I ask my husband and son who sit on the couch in the living room. My son looks up and I can see that he had been crying. A wave of fear and mothering hits me and I leave Sophie in her pram and rush over to my son.

"Honey, what's wrong? Why have you been crying?" I ask him, while taking him into my arms. I rock him back and forth and stroke through his hair. My son had been crying and I hadn't been there. That had never happened before.

"He's just a little sad and depressed." My husband answers me.

"Why are you sad? Did we hurt you? Seth, you have to tell me when you feel sad. I'm your mother. I have to know when you're sad, because it's my job to make it better again." I tell him. My t-shirt starts to feel wet and the contractions of his back tell me that he's sobbing.

"Oh sweetie, what's so awfully wrong that you have to cry so much?" I ask him, not releasing him from my arms.

"E…everything." My son answers. It's so long ago that he has cried that badly.

"What's everything?" I ask him. I need to be in the know. I have to help him. I have to sooth him and take the pain away, which something is causing inside of him.

"He's angry how we've dealt with Ryan's …mental conflicts and that they can't hang out together as they used to. He thought we've hooked Ryan on happy pills to get rid of his problem, so we have more time to concentrate on Soph." My husband answers for our son, who still hadn't stopped crying yet.

"What? Honey, how could you believe that we would go that far?" I'm astonished that my son thought about us like that. How could he?

"Because you were only talking about how overtaxed you are and you…that…that you hope that this therapist starts to help and all this stuff." A muffled tone comes from my son whose head is still buried in my arms. I understand now what damage we have done to both our boys. We've been unable to show them our concerns, but gave them the feeling that we wanted to get rid of them.

"But that didn't mean that we did decide only to have more time for Sophie. It was…just a decision, we made because we didn't think it was good for Ryan having all these problems." I try to explain to him.

"Honey, we would never decide anything to get rid of one of you. In fact it's all a little more stressful and we indeed had times in which we felt overtaxed – a lot of them. But you can't be mad at us because of that. We're only human beings as well." I try to soothe him. The first step is to make my own son believe me and then we can try to make it clear to Ryan. I hope we can manage doing so.

"Seth…honey…I know we did a lot of mistakes lately and I can't even explain them myself. I can only ensure you that we didn't mean what we've said. We would never want to get rid of anyone of you. We love you too much for that. You're our kids and we would never want things to be different." I try to sooth him. How to explain to your children that you're not perfect? I have no clue.

"Baby, we love you all and only because it's a little bit more chaotic because of Sophie it doesn't mean we don't love you anymore. I'm so sorry that we didn't have enough time for you in that time. I can imagine how bad you must feel about it. But you have to believe me that we love you as we did before. All our other kids joined our family and we love Ryan as if he was our son like you are and we love Sophie. There's no one we love more or less. We realised that we did make so many mistakes and that's why we insisted to these holidays: only the five of us, only time for us as family." I sooth him. I feel his tears cease to flow and how he stops to sob. He struggles out of my embrace and looks at me. His eyes are puffy and red from all the crying.

"I…I'm sorry…for…all I've done…I didn't mean to." He whispers. I rub his back in circles. It always makes him calm down again.

"It's okay, we've all been on the edge with our nerves." I answer him.

"Nevertheless we all should talk to Ryan. I don't think that he can cope with this tension." My husband says and he's right. Ryan is still too sensitive towards this tension as if he could cope with it in a proper way.

"We will, when he's better again." I answer.

"I wish Ryan could enjoy these holidays as we all can. He'd already missed so many vacations with us. This was supposed all fun for him." My son states.

"Don't worry. We can make him enjoy the holidays when he's a little better." I answer.

"What is in the bag?" My husband asks and points at the bag next to the pram.

"Well, that's…for Ryan. How is he anyway?" I don't want to answer this question as I want to avoid the comments.

"He had been asleep the whole time, but one should look after him, just to make sure." My husband answers. I get up.

"I'll take care of it." I answer and take the bag. I go up. I open the door. Ryan is cuddled under the blanket. I can barely make out some blond strands of hair. I take the monkey out of the bag and place it at the head of the bed.

"You know he's going to kill you when he sees that." My husband stands in the door frame.

"What about Seth?" I ask him.

"He's taking a shower."

"I feel awful for all of this." I answer him. I sit down on the edge of the bed and stroke through Ryan's hair. His forehead is still hot, but I have the impression as if it's less than the last two days.

"I do too, but…I have the feeling as if we at least could sort things out with Seth."

"Yeah, but he grew up with us. He can understand that we…haven't been ourselves during that time. It won't be that easy for Ryan and you know that – especially not after all the horrible things that I've said and done."

"We'll make him understand. Just give him some time to get better and then we'll see." My husband says. Ryan stirs and his head tosses slightly from one side to the other.

"Shh…baby…it's okay…you're safe." I try to calm him down. He isn't talking in his dream and he doesn't wake up. He's became quieter. Maybe he's already on his way of getting better. He turns to the side, into the direction where the monkey sits.

"And I'd thought it was dead." Comes a hoarse and muffled groan from underneath the blanket.

"Hey honey, how do you feel?" This is the first lucid sign from him in days and I feel relief. He'll get better again. I stroke through his hair. I want to be very close to him now. He needs me. I need to show him that I'm still his mother. I want him to know how bad I love him and that I never meant to hurt him.

"Crappy." He replies. I should reproach him for this language, but I can't. He has some rough times lying behind. I just make an exception this one time.

"That's okay. You've had quite a bad fever the last few days." I tell him. He turns his head into my direction and I can see that he still runs a high fever, but his eyes are clear.

"Few days?" He asks me and he looks confused. I should've been prepared that he can't remember what had happen the last few days. He hadn't been lucid for a second then.

"You gave us quite a scare. You were running a high fever and you've been delirious." My husband explains him and sits down on the other side of the bed.

"De…what?" Ryan struggles into an upright position, but starts coughing awfully. I rub his back. There's still an awful heat radiating from his body.

"Well, let me express it that way: from time to time you seemed to live in another world or time." I see the fear in my son's face.

"Did…did I say anything?" He asks anxious. I see his uneasiness and the idea of letting him know that he'd let his guard down, giving us a deep insight into his past – his sore points.

"You've been quite talkative." I wish my husband wasn't that direct. He could've been a little bit nicer to him.

"Shit." Ryan whispers. He blushes, because he already knows what that means.

"It's okay honey. There's nothing to be ashamed of." I let him know. He's focusing on the blanket.

"But we definitely need to talk to you." My husband says. I don't like this way of commandment. I also doubt that the boy is already up to this kind of conversation.

"I think Ryan needs to rest first." I look at my husband. Then I go back to my son. "Do you want anything to eat?" I ask him. He's awfully pale.

"Don't feel up to that." He says. He really looks a little green.

"The antibiotics make you feel sick, that's why you need to eat something." I tell him. He doesn't look convinced.

"C'mon at least some toast and juice? Do you think that's okay?" I ask him on. He had retreated from us completely. He only shrugs his shoulders. I hope his unresponsiveness is linked to his exhaustion. I pad his leg and then go downstairs to the kitchen, followed by my husband.

"And you couldn't wait with this talking thing a little longer, at least until he has recovered a little more?" I reproach my husband.

"I'm sorry, but how would I have known that he'll react like that?" My husband asks.

"How? Sandy, Ryan's living with us already for a year now. You should know him by now." I tell him. I can't imagine that this was his serious excuse.

"Yes, I know…but…I want this to be sorted out as soon as possible. I can't bear him sitting there thinking we would harm him and don't even pretend as if you could." He says to me.

"No, I couldn't, but I want him getting better first, because I know that he's afraid of all these kinds of conversations." I tell him. The two toasts jump out of the toaster and I take them and put them on a plate. I pour a glass of orange juice and go back upstairs.

"Does it mean, Ryan's better now?" My son asks when I meet him half the way.

"Yes, it does." I tell him and offer him a smile. I have to ensure him that everything is going to be okay again and that we'll be a family soon.

"That's great." He says.

"Yeah, but we should start things slow. I don't want him to relapse." I tell him.

"Yeah right…well…do you mind if I go to the harbour and go for a sailing trip?" I look at him and out of the window. He didn't ask this question, did he?

"Did you have a look at the weather?" I ask him critically.

"Yes and the wind's perfect." He says. I know that he loves sailing and that his dream is a trip to Tahiti, but this won't happen as long as I live.

"It's an awful storm outside and it's raining. Of course I mind if you go out there and risk your life for a stupid hobby. You can sit in the living-room and read a book or draw your comic or do whatever, but I won't allow you to go out onto the sea in this weather." I tell him. I don't want to have to worry whether he'll come back again or not. I'm already scared when he's out in calm sea. I don't need to force my nerves bearing something like this.

"Can I go out then, just for a walk?" I look at him.

"Oh no. You would just make use of the situation and cheat on me. No, no, no. I want my whole family here in such weather, did you get that?" I announce him.

"Yeah…you don't need to go all Mom on me just because I asked you." He says and then disappears downstairs. No matter what I do, it's wrong. If I'd said yes, he later would've said I won't care, whether he risks his life and now I'm all Mom. Am I glad when these teenage years are over.

I enter the room and see that Ryan has fallen asleep again. I set the plate and the glass on the nightstand and leave the room. He needs his rest. When I reached the door frame I turn around and I can't help but smile a little. He's lying on his side, with one arm embracing the monkey. That must be how it had looked like when he had been a little boy: asleep with his protector and best friend. The worse part of this idea is the fact that the monkey probably had been his sole protector.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N.:** Thanks for all the nice reviews and to my Beta ParisAmy. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter

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**24.**

Our youngest son doesn't make any effort to wake up again. The plate with the two pieces of toasts is still untouched, as well as the glass with juice. He's a sleep, still embracing the monkey with one arm. When my wife told me I didn't believe it, but indeed he did. Maybe he starts to relax again. I can only hope so. After all mistakes we made, I can't expect him to adjust to our family as if he was a true member. There was too much lying between us and I can imagine that he'll need time to heal. We have to accept this fact and somehow have to try to persuade him that we aren't that bad as parents. Maybe we still can repair some of the cracks. Maybe we can make it bearable for all of us living in each others' presence. I hear the sheets rustle. His head emerges from somewhere under the blankets. His eyes are still feverish but clear.

"Hey kid." I say and go over to him. "You start to like him what?" I mock him, about the monkey.

"uh…" He groans and hides back under the blanket.

"C'mon, you know this is not meant in a mean way." I tell him and sit down on the edge if the bed, patting his shoulder.

"I never met a person before who was capable of hating a soft-toy like that." I try to cheer him up a little. He needs it. It's my duty to apply any remedy for what we've done to him.

"Don't hate it, I'm just too old." He says, but he doesn't look at me. He keeps hidden. His voice is still hoarse.

"You're sure?" I ask him. I know if my wife was here right now she'd reproach me for dragging the boy into a conversation, but I have to. I need to.

"Uh…" He closes his eyes and turns away from me. He seems as if he has realised what I'm up to, and no he doesn't make the impression as if he wants to talk.

"C'mon kid. You don't need to be like that. I thought we left it behind." I tell him. He pulls the blanket over his head. I should see this as an improvement. He would never have done so a few months ago. He would have been too shy and too afraid for doing so – for acting like an annoyed teenager.

"You know that you'll still hear me under that blanket, don't you?" I remind him. He throws the monkey into my direction.

"See? You can still hear me." I go on. I know that he can't escape me right now and I'll make use of the situation.

"You know that we didn't mean what we've said to you or about you, right? No you don't know, otherwise I can't explain myself your behaviour lately." I answer. I want to make clear to him from the very beginning that he can't trick me and that I know him. I want to give him the feeling that there is someone who understands him. He won't accept any apologise, any help or any remedy if he doesn't trust us and our ability to understand his point of view.

"Yeah…I know…I was pissed…besides the first time since I started to take these happy pills, satisfied?" I can hear his voice from underneath the blankets. What's that? He starts to give me be bits of his inner world voluntarily? That's definitely a change and this date needs to be marked red in the calendar. After all we did to him this is an astonishing reaction. He currently owes the right to stay mute and brooding – a right we gave to him – and he doesn't make use of it.

"Simply pissed? There was nothing more? Ryan, you can't just give me these few words and think I would leave it with that. K…your Mom and I don't think that you understood that we were simply…overtaxed and not thinking about what we were saying." I have to make clear to him that we are his parents. All this calling by the first name stuff only keeps a gap between us. This isn't making us his parents. It feels more like dog an owner.

"Alright, you've found new ways of giving me a bad conscience. If you get what you want do you promise me that you cut this whole conversation thing short?" Slowly his head emerges from underneath the blanket.

"Ryan, it's not only about giving us something and most important this is not about giving you a bad conscience. It's about making you understand and trying to fix what we damaged through our blindfolded fights and actions." My wife says. My wife? I turn back and see her standing in the doorframe. I have no clue how long she'd been staying there. She looks at me and her facial expression is strict. I know how this will end – after we've left this room. I should've listened to her. She walks over to the bed and sits down on its edge.

"Don't you like the monkey, because it reminds you of your father?" She asks him. This time I'm the one who'd liked to intervene. On the other hand, my wife has proved often enough that she can handle Ryan somehow easier than I can – which was in a time before our family stopped functioning as such. My wife rubs the boy's back. It used to make him relax. Although Ryan and Seth couldn't be more different, they're still so similar.

"Seth talked, didn't he?" He groans. I would like to see his face right now, but I can't have it all. Either he offers me his face or he offers me the rest. I'd rather prefer the rest, because his face isn't much of a help trying to find out what's going on.

"Seth always talks, you know that." I answer him.

"Uh…" Comes another groan.

"Besides you haven't eaten or drunken anything yet." My wife reproaches him.

"Can't you just decide between one torture and the other one?" He really behaves like a teenager right now. I look at my wife who raises her eyebrows and then shrugs her shoulders.

"Okay, what about the monkey?" I ask him. Now we have the deal and he has to talk to us. That's how it usually goes. If you can't make Ryan talk, make him a deal. You can be sure he'll stick to it. He's way too loyal, as if he would cheat on you in this matter.

"Dunno…it…wasn't the monkey I was angry about…I dunno." Now he wants to retreat…or he's searching for the right words. He isn't much of a talker, thus he always struggles to find the right expression for something. He doesn't want to use too many words. It's like he's afraid of using words. We need to be patient with him. We'll always need to be. We can't deny that his past had shaped him more than we'd liked it to. We have to accept the fact that he'll never behave absolutely natural around us. The gap of sixteen years will always remain.

"It…it had been the whole…" He gets disturbed be some heavy coughs which force him to struggle into an upright position. My wife hands him the glass of orange juice, but after the first sip he hands it back to her.

"Ryan, you need to drink something." My wife says.

"Water?" He asks. It seems as if his voice is even hoarser through the coughs than before.

"You need some vitamins in your system, does it hurt that bad in your throat?" She asks him. He only shrugs his shoulders. His 'yes' if he doesn't want to admit it, but knows he has to.

"Alright, water then." My wife responds defeated and hands him some water.

"So, it had been the whole what?" My wife asks him. He doesn't hide back under the blanket. Instead he's focusing it as if he tries to get the answer out of it.

"C'mon you've nearly told us and you know there's nothing we can't bear." I tell him.

"It…just…it had been the whole situation. Seth was ignoring me and…behaving as if I was an intruder stealing his family…you've been busy with your jobs and Sophie and then you had to put up with me…and then…all these outbursts…and then I got my ass kicked…for something I didn't do deliberately…I mean do I look as if I wanted to slip and just shower my back with boiled water and ruin my knee completely, only to hurt Sophie? I…didn't mean to cause that much trouble and…then you come up with this fucking monkey as if this could make anything better. You're feeding me with these fucking pills…and…if I don't work as I'm supposed to, you get pissed off, and although it's not my entire fault it's me who gets his ass kicked. I thought it was going to be different, but the only thing that became different that nobody kicks my ass physically and that it happens in a surrounding of wealth. None of you even consider that words and gestures…and tones can hurt too, do you? You think, only because nobody beats the crap out of me anymore everything's fine, right? It's not." After he had said this he hides back under the blanket again – his back turned towards us. A wave of sadness rushes over me. This was exactly what the doctor has been talking about. We abused Ryan, just in a very different way, that's what he pointed out a few seconds ago and we can't deny it. He's damn right about our behaviour and I can't come up with anything we could do to make up for this. Abusing a former abused child, in order to give him a future and a life worth living for. This is an idiocy I can't excuse or apologise for. This is the best example for 'wrong'.

"Oh sweetie…if I'd known how you feel about that…I…I can't even say how sorry I am, because sorry is not enough…" My wife starts, while rubbing his back in circles. In my opinion this is not going to solve the problem he was talking about. Oh God. If anyone gets to know about this, he has enough in his hands to make child services taking Ryan away from us.

"I know what I've said was all wrong. I shouldn't have reproached you on the way to the hospital and…I should've been more concerned. I should've saved myself the outburst in the hospital and I shouldn't have said that you've become too much for me. I know that…and do you know why? Not because it's impolite, but because the message that gets carried within is wrong. Of course I'm concerned about you every single time something happens to you. I would do everything for you to make your leg better…to help you feeling more comfortable with it – with us. I would give everything for making you comfortable in our family. I just can't and I'm frustrated…" My wife starts with her soul-striptease. Limitation of damage. Nothing more is what she's doing, but there's nothing more we can do anymore. There's no way we can build a new family with Ryan as a member. It's on him. He is the only one who can decide about this now. We should stop forcing him to do anything. We have to give him the space he needs to decide for whether he wants to be a member of our family or whether he wants to be left out. I couldn't blame him if he decides for the last mentioned options. Who wants to live in a family that abuses you, hurts you and make you feel sad and depressed?

"We're frustrated, because we don't have it in our hands." I go on. I can hear in my wife's voice how she's fighting against the tears. We'd known that it would be massive what was coming up to us. We didn't know it would be massive like that.

"You can't imagine how hard it is for parents to watch your own child being injured and hurt and being helpless about it at the same time. It's the worst thing that can happen to parents, I swear. We just reached a point on which we were unable to bear this kind of helplessness any longer, but this never has had anything to do with you. We know that it's not your fault and we can understand that you wish that things were different. We only got…angry with ourselves and sometimes even parents need to let off of steam. It's just as simple as that. We just needed to give space to our rage." I tell him. I hope that he has understood now. I know that he isn't stupid, but his emotions sometimes don't allow him to think rationally – last year had been the best proof for that. I watch Ryan: no reaction. I look at my wife, but she's looking as helpless as I feel.

"Ryan?" I ask him. I sit down next to my wife. "Don't tell me that you fell asleep while we were preceding the whole parental soul-striptease." I ask him. My wife hadn't stopped rubbing his back.

"No" He mumbles from somewhere under the blanket; at least something. I pat his shoulder.

"I would like to know whether you understood what we were saying." I ask him. I get no reaction. My wife sighs.

"Sweetie, did we upset you?" My wife asks him.

"No" Okay, now we reached the land of no. I'd like to know whether our speech has had any effect.

"Okay, but something's wrong with you right now and we'd like to know what it is." I tell him. I hate to have to force him to reveal his well protected emotions and thoughts in such a harsh way.

" 'm feeling stupid…thanks." He answers. Well, not the nicest way, but the fact that he's acting like a normal teenager should give me reasons for hope that we haven't lost everything yet. It actually means that he starts to act more natural around us than he used to only few months ago.

"Well, I think currently it's a common feeling in our family." My wife answers. She's right. Everybody feels stupid for what he or she had said or done over the last few weeks.

"We feel stupid for having lost our composure and patience; Seth feels stupid for having acted like a jealousy child, and you feel stupid for having thought nothing had changed from your former life – which besides is very understandable." I answer him.

"mmmm" He groans and tries to hide even deeper under the blanket.

"Oh honey, it's not that bad." My wife says and leans over his body to embrace him, rolling his body a little back and forward.

"We're all together a stupid family." I just add to make him feel a little easier about the whole situation.

"And that's why we fit that good together." My wife adds, shaking him just a little more. A flying monkey is all response we get from him.

"C'mon, you like him, I know that. So be a little nicer to him." My wife says, with a grin on her face.

"Besides has he already gotten a name…or she?" I ask him. It's hard to withstand the opportunity of mocking Ryan with something trivial like that: the usually deadly serious teenager and his soft-monkey.

"What about Mrs. Bananas? I'm sure Mr. Bananas would like to have some female company." My wife suggests.

"Mr. Bananas?" He asks us critically turning his head towards us, his eyebrows frowned.

"Seth's monkey." My wife answers.

"He has a monkey too? Oh…shit." He only mumbles and crawls back under his blanket.

"What 'oh shit'?" I ask him.

"I'm becoming more and more like Seth." He answers. I have to brace myself not to laugh and I can see that my wife is fighting the same fight. Indeed we'd never the chance to see Ryan being all the teenager, and witnessing it is just…very funny. It just doesn't match him.

"And that's so bad?" I ask him.

"If I have to be afraid of telling strangers my deepest secrets: yes." He answers.

"Oh no, don't worry. I don't think that you have to be afraid of that, but you've become a little similar to him, especially when you behave like that. That's so Seth." My wife says and she's right. Every time when something uncomfortable comes up to our eldest he's hiding in his bed, under his blanket, waiting for the storm to be over – preferable without facing the storm.

"Not good" We only hear his voice under the blanket.

"Better than the all too mature Ryan who's more struggling with himself than with the battles of life." I tell him. He should know that it is good that he can behave like that. It gives me the feeling as if we at least can give him some of his youth back, if we can't offer him a well functioning family.

"C'mon now you have to eat something to get your strength back." My wife says.

"Unfair. You said you'd pick one torture."

"Yes and we did and now we pick the other one. Be glad that we didn't impose both at the same time on you." I answer him.

"Resistance useless, what?" He says and emerges again from under his blankets.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N.:** Thanks for all those nice reviews and to my beta ParisAmy, whom I really can rely on! I know this chapter is a little short a kind of 'deus ex macina', but I had to find an end eventually. Have fun reading it =)

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**25.**

We're all at the beach. My husband and my eldest are trying their luck with wind-surfing and my both youngest are cuddled into thick cloths and a blanket in one of the beach chairs. Sophie has found an interest in Ryan's book about historical architecture – at least she giggles when he turns the pages and another picture emerges in front of her, which she uses to touch with her little but still clumsy hands.

"And did you think about our proposal?" I ask my youngest. After we'd been able to sort out everything and Ryan managed to recover from his pneumonia – quite fast through the strong antibiotics – we had sat down with all our kids and tried to find out what we need to change in the future. The first thing was that we need to act more as a family again, what means we always have to try to find a compromise between all of us. We can't only serve Sophie's needs and we – Sandy and I – have to cut back our jobs when we realise it's not working out. Seth has to accept that he isn't an only child anymore, but we also have to pay more attention to him. We can't just let him act as he's pleased to. We need to show him, although he's nearly an adult that we still care and worry. On the other hand Seth has to come to us when something's bothering him and not use Ryan as his punching bag. And Ryan? We had to realise that the program we had chose was too much for him. We decided to try once again to come along without therapy or happy pills. We have to accept that there always will be this gap of sixteen years, but he has to allow us to close it as good as possible. He has to stop feeling obliged to doing all those duties for us. He has to start to be more like a normal teenager and has to start to come out of his hole and go out again as he used to. We also have tried to convince him from another method of trying to recover his knee, but he hadn't seemed to be comfortable with this thought, but maybe he had thought about it a little more and is convinced now.

"You know that I don't like the idea of another surgery, although the possibility of being able to use my leg a little more than possible is going to happen without is tempting." He says.

"But you also know that there's still one surgery left anyway. We can try and see whether they can handle both in one. Then you won't have to bear two." I tell him. He only shrugs his shoulders.

"We'll be there as usual to help you through to this."

"Yeah…I know…it's just…"

"The thought of the surgery and the pain and sickness afterwards. I can understand you hundred per cent." I help him out, to show him that his concerns don't fall on deaf ears.

"But we'll be there holding the bowl, rubbing your back and meanwhile you should know how good I am in driving nurses crazy." I tell him and this sentence forces a little smile onto his face.

A few months later I'm sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his back, while my husband's holding the bowl. I'm glad that Ryan trusts us more and more. It seems every day is a step forward now. He behaves like a teenager and he doesn't struggle anymore when anyone of us loses his patience or even his temper. This is family life and he can cope with it.

"Shh…is okay. Everything's over now and I promise this had been the last surgery." I tell him.

"Hope so." He groans.

"I'm sure it is." I tell him and place a kiss on top of his head. He allows us to be his parents now and he allows us to make uncomfortable decisions. Not like he had before. He doesn't think he has to let us do so, because we've taken him and now he's obliged to do as we say. He…just became more like Seth. Of course he doesn't always let it go without fight, but we don't expect him to. He's a teenager. Everything else would be… had been in some point unnatural.

The night again is a trip to hell for him. The pain medication wears off and his leg seems to be one pain. They removed the metal out of it and they tried to fix his knee. Now everything depends on a proper healing of the tissue and again physical therapy. I realise that he's in pain when he becomes way too quiet and his breath is only shallow. I place a hand on his shoulder to recognise it's tensed up. I sit down on the bed again.

"Are you in pain?" I ask him. He nods shyly. He still doesn't like to admit that he's in pain, but that's Ryan and I doubt it'll change one day. He had gone through too much – too many worse things – as if he could leave this habit.

"Is okay, we're there." I sooth him.

"I'll go and get someone." My husband says and jumps up from his seat and then vanishes into the hospital hallways. I can feel that with every second his body tenses up more and more.

"Shh…it'll be okay…" I tell him and pull him into a tight hug. I don't know whether he can trust words in these kinds of situations. He's difficult to read then. I just do, what I think I have to as his mother. I rock him back and forward.

"Mommy is here and your Dad's already getting someone. You'll see soon it'll be better." I tell him. Yes, it's not any longer Kirsten and Sandy, but Mom and Dad. This feels more natural, although Ryan's still shy and careful in using these words, but he does and that's all that counts.

Two days later he can go home again. I don't like the idea of parking him in the pool house and thus I just have decided to make up a room in the main house. He doesn't belong outside, but with us. Usually there'll be always someone who can help him managing the stairs and I'm positive that he'll soon be able to manage them alone.

"Hey Ryan, you wanna come to the Crab Shack tonight?" My son asks at the dinner table.

"Alone with you and Summer?" He asks critically.

"Why not? It'll be fun. Man, you need to come out of the house." Reluctantly Ryan agrees. The next morning he seems happier than he used to in a while and Seth explains me secretly that Summer has a plan. We used to call it pairing someone off with someone else, today it's a plan. Well it seems to work. Ryan starts to meet Lindsay more frequently and they seem to match to each other. Lindsay is smart and in his eye-level. They're a nice couple, if they already are. We're just the parents of two teenage boys, so we aren't in the know of everything and we won't ever be.

**ENDE**


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